The Bitterness of Mortality
by Karri
Summary: While visiting Rivendell, Legolas stumbled across a misplaced gift. Will he survive it?
1. Chapter 1

**The Bitterness of Mortality**

By Karri

**Summary:** While visiting Rivendell, Legolas stumbled across a misplaced gift.

_All the usual disclaimers apply: Tolkien's stuff belongs to the Tolkien Estate. The plot, concept, and original characters belong to me. _

A/N: This story was inspired by a challenge on that was posted to the Mellon Chronicles message board a decade or so ago. Accordingly, it assumes that Legolas visited Rivendell many times prior to the Council of Elrond and maintained a close friendship with Aragorn (Estel), that Estel referred to Elrond as ada, and that he was considered brother by the Twins. It is, however, not set in the actual Mellon Chronicles universe and does not include any of its original characters.

A/N: This story contains references to Silmarillion characters. Anyone who is unfamiliar with them and would like clarification, please let me know in a comment, and I will add an additional author's note at the end with the relevant information.

_Special thanks to my original beta, Nilmandra, and my current beta, __Padawan Aneiki R'hyvar__, for their efforts._

Comments are welcome and appreciated!

**Chapter One**

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Watching Legolas stride energetically into the deepening forest shadows, Aragorn silently cursed. It wasn't the elf's fault they were out there; Aragorn was the one who had decided to go hunting and drag along his reluctant friend. Nor was it Legolas's fault that Aragorn felt horrible, but that didn't make the ranger any less grumpy with the elf, the forest, the fading daylight, the gathering chill, and everything else that wasn't feeling as miserable as he. Shivering, Aragorn shifted his gaze away from the elf prince and looked instead over the edge of the ravine beside him. He couldn't see the river that he knew was there. He could hear it, though, and focused on it in a vain attempt to ignore the irritating tickle plaguing his throat.

Legolas started at the sudden sound of coughing. Turning in search of Aragorn, he found his friend leaning against a tree at the edge of a steep ravine, rubbing at his forehead. Looking more closely, the elf noticed that Aragorn's cheeks were more flushed than warranted by the exertion of their hunt.

_He is ill_, came an abrupt realization.

Cursing himself for not noticing sooner, Legolas bit back a worried sigh. The cloudless evening was already draining the warmth of the day from the forest floor, making it a poor bed for a sick mortal. Moving silently toward Aragorn, Legolas studied the steep, winding path that they had just traversed and frowned. Shadows cast by the tall beeches and deeply-scented pines of the Trollshaws veiled the many jutting roots and crumbling rock that had so determinedly sought to trip them with every step. He wondered which would be more dangerous – leaving Aragorn at the mercy of a chill night and waiting until the morrow to return to Imladris, or attempting the treacherous terrain in the dark.

"You are not well, mellon-nin," Legolas announced, resting a gentle hand on the ranger's shoulder. More coughing rattled through the air, tightening the knot of worry in the elf's stomach.

"It is nothing. I just need a moment to catch my breath," Aragorn countered, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Legolas eyed him skeptically.

_There will be no convincing him that I am well._ The ranger sighed in resignation. Closing his eyes, he rested his aching head against the tree.

"We should return to your adar," the prince declared, in a tone that brooked no argument - that is, from anyone but Aragorn.

The ranger frowned at the anxious edge to his friend's tone. Legolas had little experience with sickness. Aragorn suspected the elf's concern was greater than his trifling illness warranted. His limbs felt made of lead, but beyond that – and the irritating tickle in his throat – he didn't feel too terrible.

"Let us make camp," Aragorn suggested offhandedly. Opening his eyes, he smiled reassuringly. "A good night's rest is all that I need."

To Aragorn's astonishment, the elf simply nodded and returned a tentative smile.

"Truly, I am certain that it is noth…," Aragorn began, but the sentence fell away forgotten as a sudden movement distracted him. He twisted around in the direction of it, and his eyes widened in horror at the sight of a pouncing wolf. Aragorn lurched away from the tree, reaching for his broadsword and cursing himself for allowing his silly cold to preoccupy both of them so completely.

Stepping out of Aragorn's way, Legolas reflexively reached for an arrow as he turned toward the threat, but even he was not fast enough to unsheathe it before the beast slammed solidly into him. The shaft fell to the earth, forgotten, as his hands flew up too slowly to prevent teeth from imbedding deeply into the flesh at the base of his neck. Pain seared, into his shoulder, thru his chest, and down his arm all the way to his fingertips.

Pitching forward to tackle the creature, Aragorn's heart constricted with the realization that he had moved too late to stop the scene playing out before him. Legolas's sidestep had placed him too near the edge of the ravine; Aragorn groaned in dismay as the jarring impact caused the ground beneath the elf's feet to crumble away, and wolf and elf toppled out of sight.

Barely aware of the dense foliage whipping at him as he tumbled, Legolas pried desperately at the jaws attempting to rip away his flesh. His mind raced with swelling panic, yet each thought seemed to pass in slow motion. _Where did the wolf come from? Why did I not hear it coming? Was it alone? Estel is ill, and I have left him undefended! How long will it take to die after the wolf rips out my throat? Ada…_

The remaining thought scattered as his head smacked into something unyielding, sending a brilliant flash of pain exploding through his skull. His eyes tightly scrunched, Legolas vaguely registered a slight loosening of the wolf's jaw. He took advantage of the opportunity to ram the base of his palm into beast's snout, stunning it enough to allow him to reach his blades. Legolas drove them into the sides of the large body with lightening speed. The beast fell slack, its enormous body collapsing upon the elf and forcing the air from his lungs. Gasping painfully, Legolas let his head drop limply into the gently lapping water at the river's edge and wondered dimly what was taking Aragorn so long.

_Pray, Elbereth, do not let him be battling the rest of the pack on his own._

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Aragorn stumbled back, away from the edge, as a flash of white light exploded from the ravine, temporarily blinding him. Forced to wait for his vision to readjust to the dim light of gloaming, he gripped his sword and listened intently for any new predator that might be lurking in the trees, waiting for just such a moment to pounce. All was silent, but Aragorn cursed all the same, wondering into what new sort of trouble Legolas had landed.

"You'll know soon enough," the ranger soothed, launching headlong down the steep slope.

His descent was more of a semi-controlled slide than anything. Still, Aragorn managed to emerge within sight of the wolf. Regaining his feet without pause, he rushed forward to rescue his friend from the jaws of the beast. It wasn't until he drove his sword into it that he noticed the wolf was already dead. Praying Legolas had fared better, Aragorn glanced around in search of his friend with a slightly embarrassed blush tingeing his cheeks.

"You are fortunate that you did not skewer me with that thrust," a breathless voice rebuked.

"Legolas?"

"Down here," came the reply. Following it, the ranger rounded the wolf and waded into the shallow water to crouch beside his friend's head.

"Enjoying the view?" Aragorn teased, before shifting his gaze up to scan the shadows filling the deep ravine. Glancing down again, he spied the hilt of an Elven blade sticking out from the wolf's side and shook his head in admiration. The expression changed into amusement, though, as Legolas shot him an irritated glare.

The ranger chuckled, shifted his weight, and heaved against the hefty corpse. As it rolled off the elf, Aragorn's amusement promptly faded. Blood stained Legolas's slashed and battered tunic.

"It appears that I am not the only one Adar will be tending," he quipped, attempting to veil his concern. Offering the prince his free hand, Aragorn gently guided Legolas to his feet.

The elf smiled weakly, but lacked sufficient breath for a witty reply. Setting his jaw against a groan, he forced his abused body to rise. Pain pulsed through his head, which swam sickeningly. He slumped forward and rested his hands on his thighs, as he slowly refilled his lungs.

Aragorn hovered protectively, his gaze flickering between the menacing shadows and his friend, while the elf steadied himself and then straightened fully. Shakily making his way to a fallen tree at the base of the slope, Legolas plopped down, with quite un-elflike awkwardness.

"Legolas?" Aragorn queried, crouching down beside him.

The prince propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. Battling an onslaught of nausea, he couldn't speak and settled for raising his hand in a gesture of patience. Aragorn frowned anxiously, but didn't press him further.

"Take this."

Legolas winced as Aragorn grasped one of his hands and folded his fingers around the hilt of a knife. His heart skipped a beat. Had the beasts followed them down the slope? He lifted his aching head just enough for his eyes to meet those of the crouching ranger.

"I do not see anything lurking in the shadows, but it is better to be on our guard," Aragorn replied to the unspoken question in the alarmed, pain-filled eyes that met his and gave the elf's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Legolas eyed him warily for a moment, but then weariness conquered him. Setting the knife upon his knees, he eased his head back into hands. Aragorn frowned anxiously, but said nothing. Rising, he instead set to work building a small blaze to keep the shadows at bay while he took a look around.

"Rest," he bade, crouching beside the elf. "There is too little wood at hand; I must gather more if I hope to have enough light to look at those wounds."

Legolas nodded faintly, swallowing hard against the nausea still rising up his throat. Aragorn patted his leg consolingly before rising. Wandering up the riverbank, he scanned the steep slope for any sign of danger, as well as for anything useful; he had not brought any healing herbs with him. Spotting a patch of tall stems crowned with clusters of small pink flowers, the ranger gathered a good supply. The plant wouldn't dull the pain, but it would at least allow Legolas to escape into sleep. Tucking the stems inside his tunic, Aragorn set to work collecting any bit of wood that seemed dry enough to burn. Aside from his desire for warmth and light, he knew wolves were wary of fire. He hadn't seen or heard any sign of others…

_But you did not hear the one that attacked, either, until it was too late_, he scolded. _You let a trifling cold distract you and nearly got yourself killed…nearly got Legolas killed!_

Aragorn's stomach fluttered as he thought of Legolas sitting alone and helpless. Abruptly turning, he hastily retraced his steps.

_If they think to dine on elf and ranger this night, they shall pay dearly,_ he vowed to himself, setting his jaw firmly. _Legolas shall not suffer further for my weakness._

Approaching the elf, Aragorn studied his injured friend. The normally resilient elf hadn't moved at all, increasing his concern. His frown deepened as he thought of facing his father on the morrow.

_Ada is not going to be pleased to see us return in poor health, again. _Aragorn shook his head. Sometimes it seemed impossible to avoid trouble, even when they truly tried.

"What are you thinking?" Legolas quizzed, having heard Aragorn softly sigh. Gingerly raising his head, he studied his friend's strange expression.

The ranger smiled, pleased to hear the elf's voice strong and steady, despite his obvious pain. "I was thinking about the look that will be on my Adar's face when we arrive home tomorrow."

Legolas smiled wanly, imagining Lord Elrond's expression, but then winced as a fresh wave of dizziness swept over him. He dropped his head back into his hands with a sigh; he'd sincerely hoped to come through a visit unscathed for once.

"How are you feeling?" Glancing over as he set down the wood, Aragorn focused on his friend, while his hands built up their small fire. With effort, Legolas forced his head to rise again and met the ranger's gaze.

"I believe I will live," he quipped, hoping to ease the tension a bit. Aragorn likely felt responsible for the misadventure, so there seemed little value in acknowledging how truly horrible he actually felt.

"Of that I do not doubt, but how are you feeling?" Aragorn pressed. Noting that his friend had eluded the question, he locked eyes with the elf. Legolas held his gaze for nearly a minute, before deciding he wouldn't get away with not answering. Fortunately for the elf, just as he opened his mouth to speak, a cough shifted the focus to Aragorn.

"I will heal. The question is how are you, mellon-nin?"

"I am fairly certain I will live," Aragorn replied, tossing the elf a lopsided grin. Unclasping his cloak, he spread it out beside the now blazing fire. "Come, lie down and rest. Do you need help with your tunic?"

Legolas tossed him a questioning glance.

"I must see to your wounds," Aragorn reminded.

Dropping his head back into one hand, Legolas spared the other just long enough to wave away his friend's intentions.

"It is nothing…just scratches. Do not trouble."

"Legolas…" Aragorn began to argue, crouching beside the elf.

"Please, Estel, just let me be."

The desperation of the plea alarmed Aragorn more than anything else thus far, making him even more determined to have a look at the damage.

"Legolas…" he persisted, reaching for his friend's shoulder. Groaning, the elf flinched away. Aragorn dropped his hand, but would not be deterred otherwise. "The sooner you stop arguing, the sooner I will be finished."

Legolas sighed. The aching of his skull so thoroughly overshadowed all other pains that he saw little reason for Aragorn to poke, prod and generally aggravate him.

_Then again the dizziness might ease a bit if I lay down. Either way, the troublesome mortal will have his way in the end._ Easing his head up with his hand, Legolas gazed a moment at the spread cloak, then let his head slip back down. His body felt too heavy and sluggish to move.

"Too far…" he finally admitted, in a whisper barely loud enough to hear over the soft sound of the river.

Aragorn's frown deepened, but he said nothing. Shifting to sit on the log beside Legolas, he unclasped the elf's damp cloak and soggy quiver, before gingerly grasping a forearm. He expected resistance. Receiving none, Aragorn pulled the elf's arm over his shoulders and slowly eased up to his feet. Legolas's legs promptly crumpled. Not expecting his friend to be so weak, the sudden shifting of weight threw the ranger off-balance. More dropping than carrying, he lurched forward and lay Legolas on the cloak.

Legolas pulled a forearm over his eyes, trying desperately to breathe through the motion-intensified agony in his head. It was somewhat effective. The pain lessened to a dull throb, and the world spun to a gradual halt.

"Here." Legolas uncovered his eyes long enough to see Aragorn offer him a waterskin. Sniffing at its contents, he frowned. Aragorn frowned back, pleadingly. "Please, my friend. I feel horrible enough without having to endure your misery, as well."

Legolas sighed and nodded very slightly. He had to bite back a hiss as Aragorn eased a hand beneath his head to raise it, but drank from the skin pressed to his lips and tried to relax. Replacing his arm over his eyes, he focused on the sound of the river and the soft caress of the breeze.

He wanted desperately to escape into the wondrous oblivion of sleep, but a strange feeling lying just beneath the pain kept him hovering on the edge of consciousness. His abused brain couldn't pin the problem down exactly. The world around him seemed…distant, detached, not a part of him as it usually was. It was hushed and dim, and he was cold…and hollow.

Unclasping his friend's suede tunic, Aragorn tugged it off as he pulled Legolas into a sitting position. The movement garnered no response from the prince, sending a tickle of fear fluttering through the ranger. Legolas was far more unresponsive than the sleeping herb justified; Aragorn prayed that using it hadn't been a mistake. Ending a sigh with a cough, he bit his lower lip in an attempt to control his mounting anxiety and stripped off the elf's silky under-tunic.

With the remainder of drug-laden water, Aragorn washed away the blood and examined the wounds. Legolas had been truthful. The bite looked deep, though the area was too swollen to be certain. Still, no flesh had been torn away, and the claw wounds, though oozing, were fairly shallow. Free from the risk of infection, the injuries posed no serious threat to the elf.

The ranger pondered whether or not to sacrifice Legolas's cloak for bandages. He decided it might be more useful as a blanket and spread it out to dry by the fire. Settling down beside his friend, Aragorn watched the shadows with heavy eyes. He rested a hand on the elf's shoulder and closed his eyes, just for a minute…

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Thranduil paused in the doorway of his private study, unexpectedly finding it occupied.

"Your pardon, Daerada." His grandson grinned sheepishly, glancing up from a letter. "I seem to have run short of parchment and…"

"You are welcome to the parchment, quill and desk, as you are full aware," Thranduil interjected, smiling affectionately. "It is just as well, as I have not yet received news of your journey to Dale."

Belegorn groaned, eliciting a chuckle from his grandfather.

"I will not have Legolas hearing of it first." Thranduil dropped his gaze to the parchment and tossed his grandson a knowing smile. "In return, you may help me sample the new wine."

Belegorn grinned at this, earning another chuckle.

"Now come, join me by…."

Sudden, blinding pain slammed into Thranduil's skull, cutting short his words. His knees buckling, he dropped to the floor, clutching his head.

"Daerada!"

The pain gradually ebbed, leaving nausea in its place, and Thranduil moaned. Only vaguely aware that his grandson had reached his side, he started when Belegorn pulled him to his feet. A wave of dizziness forced him to lean heavily on the young elf, as they slowly made their way to one of the soft chairs by the fire. Hence, it was with great relief that he eased down into it. Belegorn promptly scrambled to fetch a healer, but Thranduil didn't notice. Settling back, he focused on slow, deep breaths. Gradually, the effort was rewarded, and the nausea ebbed away.

"My lord?"

He looked up, startled to find a healer kneeling in front of him and his family hovering a few feet away. Thranduil gripped the healer's shoulder, using it to steady himself as he rose.

"Ada! Sit back down before you fall down!" His daughter exclaimed, rushing forward as he swayed. Thranduil accepted her support, closing his eyes and breathing deeply until he felt the room grow steady.

"It has passed," he sighed. The look his daughter shot him in reply would have made the king laugh were it not for the emptiness that had replaced the nausea.

"Ada…" Thranduil held up a hand, cutting short her protest.

"I must depart for Imladris as soon as can be arranged. But I will agree to rest while provisions are gathered, if you will see to it," he bargained, meeting his daughter's apprehensive gaze. She prepared to argue, but the anguish in his eyes stopped the words in her throat.

"Ada, Legolas…?" she choked out, firmly griping his arm.

"I know not. I know not…," the king muttered, forcing himself not to drop his gaze. "Where he should be, I feel naught but emptiness."

"I will ride with you," his son-in-law, Baelorn, declared resolutely.

Thranduil placed a gently hand atop his daughter's, before turning to her husband. "Your company will be welcome."

Belegorn stepped forward, eager make the journey, as well. Before he could speak, Thranduil met his gaze. He said nothing aloud, but his grandson understood that he would be staying in Mirkwood. Thranduil would not risk loosing both Legolas and Belegorn.

Baelorn gripped his son's shoulder, reassuringly. "We will find him."

Gently squeezing his grandson's other shoulder, Thranduil nodded. "Indeed. We will find him and bring him home…whatever doom has befallen him."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Lord Elrond peered at the white ship before him, his brow furrowed with the effort of placing the memory of where he had seen it before. He'd seen many a ship set sail, and there was nothing outstanding about this vessel to hint as to which one it was. A flicker of movement from the deck answered the question. It was his brother's ship.

Elros stood alone, grinning and waving merrily. Elrond smiled back, but it faded as an odd feeling washed over him. It might have been foreboding or dread or anticipation. He couldn't be certain and glanced around, fearing it was a warning. Seeing no immediate threat, he turned his gaze back to the ship, but his eyes met only empty sky. Bewilderment darkened Elrond's fair features.

Leveling his gaze to search the horizon, he quickly discovered the vessel. It was no longer in the distance, though; it was under his feet. Elrond turned about, confirming that he was indeed aboard the white ship. The feeling of doom intensified, even as a flicker of movement caught his eyes. He gazed back toward the shore. Elros was there, no longer alone. On his left stood the twins, waving merrily; on his right, Estel and Arwen stood, hand in hand.

Foreboding grew to fear. The figures were receding; the ship was moving. He was leaving Middle Earth…leaving his children to suffer the bitterness of mortality.

'Nay! Nay! I will not depart without my children! I will not!'

He lurched forward, reaching out to them, and tumbled to the floor of his bedroom amidst tangled bedcovers. Elrond didn't notice. Before him, an image lingered. It was not his brother, or his children, but another…one who had long ago offered a gift that Elrond had refused. He offered it again, hand outstretched, a stone-carven water lily upon it. Elrond closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he opened them slowly and found the image gone, but a feeling of doom remained, sending a shiver down his spine.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Aragorn woke abruptly. Momentarily disoriented, his gaze darted around the ravine. Shadow still shrouded the small camp, but across the river, the pale rays of a misty dawn lit the hillside. The ranger grimaced; he'd slept the night away.

_We've not been eaten by wolves, so I suppose it's just as well,_ he consoled himself, noting that he felt somewhat better. Shifting his gaze to the elf, Aragorn grinned. Legolas had not believed him when he had claimed to need only a good night's rest.

His friend still slept, his eyes closed. Aragorn was not surprised, considering the sleeping draught he had given Legolas and the healing needed to recover from the wounds inflicted by the wolf. He rose to his knees to examine the elf, but the dim light made it difficult to see. Leaning in for a closer look, he shivered as a tickle of foreboding ran down his spine. A heartbeat later, his brain abruptly registered the cause. The ugly scratches should have been plain to see against the elf's faint luminescence, but there was no trace of light. His heart in his throat, the ranger gingerly shook his friend's shoulder. Legolas groaned, and Aragorn sagged with relief.

"Estel?" The prince queried groggily, forcing his eyes open. Aragorn smiled, but it quickly faded as the rolling clouds shifted the shadows veiling their camp. Staring at his friend, the ranger tentatively reached out a hand. A perplexed frown flitted across Legolas's face as a finger touched his ear, lightly tracing its shape.

"Estel?" he repeated with bewildered concern, but to no avail. Something about his ear had enthralled his friend. Reaching up, Legolas brushed Aragorn's fingers aside and ran his own over the ear. His eyes growing wide, he felt the other ear. They were round! Both his ears were perfectly, humanly, and devastatingly round!

Legolas's mind reeled. Everything he knew and believed told him that what he felt could not be. None save Ilúvatar held the power to work such a change, and He did not do so arbitrarily. He granted a choice, but even that was offered only to the half-elven. Legolas was not half-elven. His kindred, his fate, and the shape of his ears were fixed upon conception.

The sound of harsh coughing snapped the prince back to attention. Aragorn was ill. That was comprehensible. Focusing on the ranger, Legolas shoved aside the unfathomable state of his ears and pressed the back of his hand to Aragorn's cheek.

"We should hasten back to Imladris."

Stupefied, Aragorn nodded reflexively. His brain latched onto one word: Imladris. _Yes! Ada will know what to do! I must get Legolas back to Ada!_

Focused on that thought, Aragorn abruptly rose and strode to the fallen log to retrieve Legolas's abandoned quiver. Only then did he register that it held naught but river water. Dumping the contents onto the ashes of the fire, Aragorn hastened to the wolf's carcass to retrieve the elf's blades. One knife came loose with ease, but he found the other firmly imbedded. Using a foot for leverage, he freed it with a tug that left him sitting in the river. Aragorn hardly noticed, but took the opportunity to clean the blades. Replacing the knives in the quiver, he jumped up to scour the river's edge for the elf's bow, hotly rebuking himself for not retrieving the weapons sooner.

Watching Aragorn dash around in a state of near-panic, Legolas frowned. It turned into a grimace as he propped himself up on his elbows, sending pain searing through his chest. He closed his eyes and held his breath until the fire ebbed back to a tolerable burning, then peered down to have a look at the damage. The odd angle increased the throbbing of his head, sending a wave nausea rising up his throat. His eyes snapping shut, Legolas gulped down several deep breaths.

_It's doubtless not as bad as it feels, _he assured himself, deciding not to try for another look. Tentatively opening his eyes, he bit his lip and carefully sat up. The chill morning air tickled his bare skin, making him shiver. Legolas frowned. Winter had long since given way to spring. The weather should not have been cold enough to affect him thus, even wounded as he was. An anxious flutter running through his stomach, Legolas absently rubbed the round top of an ear as he searched for his clothing. He found his tunics lying beside the fire and eased a hand toward them. The movement pulled at his wounds, triggering another flare of pain and a low moan.

"Legolas!" Aragorn returned to his side so abruptly that it made the elf's head spin. Legolas choked down another moan, swaying slightly. "No, don't try to move. Lie back down. Rest. What did you need? I'll get it for you. Are you cold? Do you need more sleeping draught. How is the pain? I can search again for something to ease…."

The spinning increased with each hurried word out of Aragorn's mouth, until Legolas was afraid he might topple over. He dropped his head into his hand, hoping it would still the motion.

"Estel! Please! Pause for breath," pled the prince. 'So that I may catch mine.'

Aragorn fell silent, waiting anxiously for the elf to lift his head. Legolas breathed a soft sigh of relief and slowly met his friend's concerned gaze.

"Truly, I am certain my death is not imminent. It is you who is feverish. Perhaps, you should lie down."

Aragorn frowned argumentatively, until Legolas grinned impishly. Returning a chagrined smile, he gave the elf's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I apologize, mellon-nin. It's just…."

Legolas raised a hand to stop him. He was not yet ready to contemplate his situation, so did not wish to speak of it.

"For now, let us only trouble ourselves with the journey home."

Aragorn nodded, giving Legolas's shoulder another squeeze. The warmth of the ranger's fevered skin accentuated the chill in the air and sent another shiver through the prince as he attempted a reassuring smile. Biting back comment, Aragorn twisted around to retrieve Legolas's tunics and cloak. He handed them over, and managed to resist asking if the elf needed help dressing. Rising, Aragorn instead examined the steep slope they needed to climb to escape the ravine.

"We could simply follow the river," Legolas suggested, after hearing the ranger softly sigh. Aragorn shook his head.

"Nay. The risk of losing our way is too great; neither can we be certain the terrain will improve. It may become impossible to climb out further downstream."

Legolas nodded, trusting the ranger's judgment; Aragorn knew these lands far better than he. Glancing up at the shadow-veiled slope, he sighed. His body still felt too heavy and sluggish to move.

"Might we wait until the sun has risen fully and we can better see our path?"

As if in answer, a large raindrop splattered against the elf's up-turned face. Legolas sighed.

"Come, mellon-nin." Grinning sympathetically, Aragorn offered the prince a hand. "We must get up that slope before the terrain grows slick and the river rises."

Legolas held his breath to keep from groaning as he was pulled to his feet. The scenery immediately skewed. Scrunching his eyes, Legolas concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply. His movements pulled at his wounds, making him wince, but the world gradually steadied. To his dismay, he realized he was leaning heavily against Aragorn. Warily opening his eyes, Legolas gingerly pushed himself upright. His legs still felt wobbly, but to his relief, the scenery remained in place.

"If you will cease hovering, I will promise not to fall over," he quipped, managing a weak grin.

Aragorn gazed at him skeptically. He still swayed slightly and was far too pale, giving the ranger the impression that a strong breeze could topple him.

"Legolas…," he started to argue, but the elf cut him off.

"Truly! I am well now. Let us be off," he insisted.

Aragorn continued to frown, but lowered his outstretched arms and slowly turned. A spate of coughing overtook him as he bent to retrieve Legolas's quiver, forcing him to pause long enough to catch his breath. Kneeling beside their extinguished fire, he watched several large raindrops splash into the cooling ashes and forlornly shook his head. They could reach Imladris by dusk, if all went well, but as nothing had gone well thus far….

_Whatever lies in wait for us, we had better hurry along to meet it._ Aragorn sighed, then rose and handed Legolas his quiver.

"I am sorry," he offered, as the prince frowned. "It seems neither your bow nor your arrows accompanied you to the river's edge."

Legolas shrugged, inwardly. He still had his knives, and Aragorn had knife, sword and bow. It would have to do. Carefully strapping on the quiver, he followed his friend to the edge of the slope.

"Perhaps we will come across them as we climb," Aragorn consoled, gazing up at the trail left in elf's wake and deciding it would do for a path. There would be less of a fight to get through the already battered brush. Moving aside, Aragorn gestured for Legolas to go first.

"Nay, I do not wish to hinder you," the elf argued, striving not to waver at the thought of climbing.

"And I do not wish to climb back down after you should you grow dizzy and slip," Aragorn countered, his expression daring the prince to deny his weakness.

Sighing in resignation, Legolas stepped forward and launched up the steep slope. His heavy limbs grew more cumbersome with every breath. Forcing them to keep moving, he focused on the next handhold. That distracted him, marginally, from the renewed throbbing in his head and the bile rising in his throat. Roots and shrubs determinedly tangled in his hair, increasing the pain and dizziness with each tug. Legolas would have cursed them had he either the breath or attention to spare, but even the slightest break in concentration sent the ground spinning ruthlessly.

Aragorn tried to keep an eye on his injured friend, but his body's demands made it difficult. The strain of clinging to the steep slope bled away the strength he'd regained during the night. His lungs ached with the effort of breathing and his muscles burned from exertion. Cursing between pained coughs, Aragorn focused on each handhold as he forced his reluctant body to obey his command to keep moving.

'Breathe, climb, breathe, climb, bre…ai!' Legolas nearly slipped as his hand reached for the next shrub and met empty air.

Grabbing hold of a gnarled tree root, he pulled himself onto level ground, grinning with relief and an odd sense of accomplishment. Breathless curses and coughing from behind reminded him to keep moving out of Aragorn's path. Legolas willed himself up from his knees and stumbled a few feet along the gnarled root. Reaching the base of its tree, he pressed a hand to the rough bark, seeking both strength and comfort. The tree offered neither, and the shock of the rejection burned like fire. Jerking his hand away, Legolas lost his footing and stumbled backward. The earth beneath his feet shifted with the sudden movement. Lurching forward, he over compensated and landed painfully on his hands and knees.

The volume of Aragorn's curses increased as he peeked over the lip of the ravine to see Legolas stumbling backward. Landing on hands and knees, the prince lifted his head and…froze. Aragorn followed his gazed, his curses abruptly ceasing.

_It seems we may be eaten, after all,_ he grumbled, silently. The rest of the wolf's pack sat a few feet away, patiently waiting for them to reach solid ground.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Stepping out into his garden, Lord Elrond gazed into the pale sky. Anor did not yet peek into the Valley, but vibrant hues of red and orange colored the high peaks of the Misty Mountains. Hoping to soothe his troubled spirit, Elrond filled his lungs with the sweet-scented air of spring and focused on the beauty of the coming dawn.

It didn't work.

Stifling a sigh, Elrond strolled out to the terrace path overlooking the Bruinen and wandered westward. He watched heavy rain-laden clouds slowly roll toward the Mountains. Estel and Legolas were camped somewhere beneath them. Envisioning a soggy ranger and wood-elf, he shook his head, resigned. Estel would be in a foul mood when he returned.

The nickering of horses pulled Elrond from the vision. Stepping onto the west porch, he glanced toward the stables.

"Estel will not be pleased you think him in need of rescue from a little rain," he quipped, watching his elder sons approach, leading their horses. Elladan and Elrohir grinned.

"Nay, Ada."

"It is not Estel we deem in need of rescue from the rain…," began Elladan.

"…but Legolas we seek to rescue from Estel's foul mood," finished Elrohir.

The twins laughed, turning their horses toward the bridge. Elrond chuckled. His expression fell, though, as his sons waved a merry farewell, bringing the image of the two standing beside Elros screaming into his head and a shudder rolling down his spine.

Quickly stepping back onto the path, Elrond wandered eastward, gazing at the streaks of color spreading across the sky. He tried to focus his thoughts on the tranquil splendor of the scene, but they drifted…to a place he rarely allowed them to visit. Elrond forced his thoughts elsewhere. Dwelling on that which he could never know served little purpose - and none save Ilúvatar could tell him what awaited Men beyond the confines of the world.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Thranduil!" Baelorn shouted, his weary horse straining to keep pace. The king sped on, too tangled in anxious thought to hear him.

"My lord!" Baelorn called again, but to no avail. Spurring his horse forward in a final effort, he pulled alongside Thranduil's mount. "Adar!"

Thranduil abruptly reined in his horse and, rather startled by Baelorn's presence, stared bemusedly at his son-in-law. The expression quickly sharpened.

"The horses cannot keep up this pace," Baelorn declared, holding his ground, even as Thranduil's gaze hardened. "The journey will take considerably longer on our own feet."

Thranduil's expression softened. Glancing away, he nodded despairingly. Baelorn was right. They'd traveled through the night at a speed that would soon run the horses into the ground. He must set a more reasonable pace if he hoped to reach Imladris in good time.

"Let us rest." Thranduil frowned at the suggestion. "The horses are exhausted. We cannot ask them for more until they have rested."

The king nodded, reluctantly. Dismounting, he gazed absently into the deep forest gloom, only vaguely aware of his son-in-law's movements around him.

Keeping a concerned eye on his father-in-law, Baelorn unsaddled the horses and let them wander. Raised in Mirkwood, they were too wary to stray far from the protection of their masters.

"You should try to sleep," he recommended. The king had been too pale for Baelorn's liking when they departed. The breakneck pace had added to the toll, giving Thranduil the appearance that a strong breeze could topple him. Moving to stand beside him, Baelorn rested a hand on his father-in-law's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You will be of little use to him collapsed in a heap on Elrond's porch."

Thranduil nodded, but made no move to lie down. Baelorn sighed.

"Please, Adar…"

"I do not feel him," Thranduil whispered, distantly. The tone left Baelorn wondering if his presence had again been forgotten. "I thought I would if I were but a little nearer…"

"We are yet far from Imladris," Baelorn soothed, despite the anxiety twisting his stomach.

The king nodded, absently. "I do not feel him…"

Baelorn gripped Thranduil's shoulder supportively, but said nothing. His father-in-law needed a listening ear more than empty words of comfort or advice that he would not heed.

"There is naught but emptiness where he should be…. emptiness." Thranduil's face screwed up in frustration. "I do not understand how that can be."

Baelorn remained silent, but his brow furrowed with bewilderment.

"I still feel Thaliorn…in Mandos," Thranduil elaborated, knowing that Baelorn didn't understand. How could he? He had never lost a child. "The feeling is different…fainter, more subtle. I suppose it would have to be. Aman is so very far away."

Thranduil's voice cracked tearfully, and Baelorn discreetly dropped his gaze, allowing his father-in-law a moment to swallow back his grief. The king rarely spoke of his elder son, lost with so many others at Dagorlad. Baelorn suspected he would never have spoken of him at all if not for Legolas. Thranduil wished his youngest, born long after the battle had faded into history, to know about the brother he would one day meet when he sailed into the West. Hearing the king clear his throat to continue, Baelorn lifted his gaze.

"I do not feel Legolas…not even…." Thranduil paused, unable to voice the possibility that his younger son had joined his elder brother. "There is naught but emptiness where he should be…as if…as if he had never been."

"Nay," Thranduil reconsidered. Baelorn shuddered as a soft, nearly delirious chuckle escaped the king's lips. "For if he had never been, there would not be emptiness where he should be. How can there be only emptiness?"

Abruptly turning to face his son-in-law, Thranduil gazed at him imploringly, but Baelorn had no answer.

"We will find him," Baelorn promised. Giving the king's shoulder another gentle squeeze, he wished desperately that he had more to offer.

OOOOOOOOOOOO


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

OOOOOOOOOOOO

The tickle in his throat quelled by a flood of adrenaline, Aragorn crept forward cautiously. He held his breath, expecting teeth and claws to rip him apart at any moment. The wolves, however, simply watched.

Legolas stared back at them, acutely aware of his absent bow. His knives wouldn't be useful until the wolves were upon him. He swallowed hard, unconsciously grimacing at a flare of pain in his throat. The wound at the base of his neck throbbed dully, his chest burned, and every muscle ached with the memory of his last encounter.

_Estel still has his bow_, the prince reminded himself. Catching sight of the ranger out of the corner of his eye, he frowned. Aragorn was still easing onto level ground and couldn't yet ready a weapon without risking a tumble back into the ravine.

"What are they waiting for?" the ranger grumbled softly, rising slowly to his feet. "Come on, let us get this over with…"

Almost as he finished the thought, the wolves rose off their haunches. Aragorn raised an eyebrow, half-heartedly wondering if they'd understood him.

Legolas's awareness narrowed onto the snarling creatures. His pulse quickened, his breath caught in his throat, and…thunder boomed. The prince started nearly out of his skin. A bright flash of spidery lightning followed, cueing the clouds, which opened up into a heavy downpour. Promptly drenched, Legolas rolled his eyes, exasperation displacing his fear.

"You have forgotten to include orcs," he grumbled to no one in particular. "Or will it be trolls? Nay! Why not both, a family of spiders and a dragon, while you are at it."

"Nay, mellon-nin!" Aragorn laughed. "Orcs, perhaps, but the trolls are tucked in their beds, and the spiders and dragon would be useful, so we shall not get them."

"Useful?" the elf queried, grumpily, rising carefully up to his knees.

"Aye. Spiders eat wolves and orcs, and the dragon…well, I do not know about you, but I would not mind a nice cozy fire right about now."

Legolas pursed his lips disapprovingly. The images of the scorched remains of Dale and Esgaroth were too clearly etched in his mind to find humor in his friend's jest. He shoved the unpleasant memories aside and reached for his blades as a wolf hurtled towards him.

The beasts focused on the elf prince, smelling blood or sensing weakness. Aragorn didn't know which, nor did he waste time pondering. The wolf's choice bought him needed seconds. His weariness forgotten, Aragorn's hands flew to his bow, strung it, set an arrow, released it, and reached for another.

Legolas's limbs moved annoyingly slow, but with skill; it was not the first time he had to fight weary, wounded and sluggish from some poison or another. Severing the first wolf's jaw with a quick slash, he finished it with a swift thrust. The creature's forward momentum knocked him backward, but Legolas was too occupied to acknowledge his body's displeasure. Rolling with the wolf, he used its weight to propel him onto his feet.

Undaunted, another wolf sprang. Legolas spun toward it, his knives cutting deeply into the animal's throat and ribcage. Stepping back as the wolf fell, Legolas tripped over a gnarled tree root. His right ankle twisted left; the rest of him twisted right. The full force of his weight slammed down onto his right side, and pain screamed through his shoulder an instant before his ribs crunched against the ground. Enveloped in a fog of pain, Legolas vaguely registered the twang of a bow, before another wolf thudded to the ground beside him.

Aragorn set another arrow, but the remaining wolves had pulled back. Snarling and yipping, they danced around each other, watching their prey, but not advancing. His jaw clenched tightly, the ranger scowled. Legolas hadn't risen. The wolves were giving up too easily. The muscles in his arms ached from the strain of keeping the bow bent. Unheard beneath another crack of thunder, Aragorn growled softly in frustration.

An odd tingling wove its way through the haze engulfing Legolas. His brain signaled danger, but he couldn't quite grasp the dangling thread of thought that would have told him what the threat was. Closing his eyes against the rain, Legolas found himself drifting peacefully. The rather pleasant sensation reminded him of sitting atop the trees of Mirkwood watching a fierce lightning storm rage over the eastern plains.

His eyes flew open.

"Estel, move!" A surge of adrenaline prodding him to his feet, Legolas lunged at his friend, at the same moment a reverberating crack of lightening struck the tree at the edge of the ravine.

Aragorn reflexively released his bowstring a heartbeat before Legolas plowed into him, knocking him sideways and backward several feet. A large branch smashed into the ground where he'd been, but he barely had time to notice before a joint-wrenching yank rolled him onto his stomach. A low moan met his ears, pulling Aragorn's gaze to his companion, dangling awkwardly over the lip of the ravine.

"Legolas!" Aragorn couldn't see his face, but the elf's chest rose and fell in short, uneven gasps.

"Let…go."

Barely hearing Legolas's weak, pained gasp over the pounding rain, the ranger furrowed his brow questioningly, but angry snarls distracted him. He twisted to look past his feet and abruptly registered his firm hold on elf's right wrist.

"Let…go…," Legolas repeated, through gritted teeth. The angle of his arm pulled the muscles taut against his battered ribs and tore at his wounds, making each breath a struggle.

Aragorn was forced to comply as several wolves pounced simultaneously. He reflexively reached for his knife, but didn't bother unsheathing it. There were too many of the beasts left. Scrambling over the edge after his friend, he narrowly escaped their snapping jaws.

Legolas found the journey down the steep slope aggravatingly long without a wolf to distract him. More or less sliding, instead of tumbling, every jolt sent a fresh stab of pain through his ribs and shoulder.

Aragorn found the trip exasperatingly familiar. Reaching the bottom, he caught sight of Legolas lying motionless a few feet away. Rising painfully to his feet, the ranger moved stiffly to his friend's side.

"Do not!" Legolas growled. Aragorn's hand froze an inch from the elf.

"Do not?" He replied, a hint of amusement mingling with concern.

"Yes, do not," the elf snapped, irritably. "Do not poke, do not prod, and do not 'help' me to my feet."

Sitting back on his heels, Aragorn raised an amused eyebrow. "You wish me to leave you lying there?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I wish you to do," Legolas answered, opening his eyes to glower at the ranger. Aragorn laughed and, ignoring the elf's glare, shifted closer to search for new injuries. Legolas scowled, before closing his eyes with a resigned sigh.

"That shoulder will have to be put back into place."

The elf groaned.

"Come, mellon-nin, it must be done. And the sooner I do it, the less it will hurt."

Legolas glared at him, but didn't resist when the ranger reached for his arm. Holding his breath, he bit his lip to keep from crying out as Aragorn eased the shoulder back into place with a soft 'pop'.

"Now, would you like to tell me what other new injuries you have managed to acquire, or shall I poke and prod to discover them?" Aragorn teased, more lightly than he felt. Legolas didn't look well at all. His skin was slightly flushed, yet beneath it, the elf was deathly pale. Gracing the ranger with another glare, Legolas frowned disgustedly.

"You fully intend to poke and prod whether or not I answer," He grumbled, rising painfully onto his left elbow. Aragorn raised an eyebrow worthy of his father. "Fine. Get it over with then."

Shaking his head, the ranger unclasped the elf's suede tunic and frowned at the blood seeping through the silky under-tunic. Pushing it up, he found the claw wounds reopened. The bleeding seemed to be slowing, though, so Aragorn forced himself to move on. Pressing gently, he slid a hand down the elf's heavily bruised right side. He frowned at the number of times Legolas flinched, but the ribs didn't feel badly broken. Anxiety knotting his stomach, Aragorn continued on to his friend's abdomen. When the prince did not flinch again, Aragorn breathed a soft sigh of relief.

Letting the silky tunic fall back over the wounds, he pushed the fabric off of the elf's shoulder. Prodding it gently, he winced as Legolas hissed softly, but forced himself to focus on the injury. It was bruised and swollen, yet nothing seemed broken or torn. Re-clasping Legolas's tunic, Aragorn sat back on his heels, nearly laughing at the disgruntled look leveled upon him.

"Well, mellon-nin, everything appears more or less where it should be," he quipped, offering his friend a hand up. Reluctantly accepting it, Legolas stifled a moan and eased slowly to his feet. Aragorn hovered beside him, fearing he would topple over.

"We could simply follow the river." Legolas managed a weak, but impish, grin as he repeated his earlier suggestion.

Aragorn rolled his eyes and turned to survey the terrain. The river had swollen enough that it threatened to swamp their old campsite. It would rise further still. Staying in the ravine was risky, but so was climbing up from where they were. The ranger sighed and, taking a step downstream, swung out an arm, gesturing for Legolas to take the lead, where Aragorn could keep a close eye on him.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"You are not fooling us!" Elladan grumbled. He usually found the trees attachment to 'their' wood-elf amusing, but at the moment vague apprehension urged him to hasten their search for the wandering hunters. "We know they came this way. You shall not convince us otherwise!"

His brother chuckled. The trees attempts to lead them astray were indeed vain. The joy emanating from those the wood-elf had passed beneath was too palpable to disguise. But even without such evidence, Estel had left a clear trail to follow.

"Peace, friends," Elrohir soothed. "I know that you are fond of Legolas, but turning us from his path will avail you naught. He shall soon return to Imladris and then to his own Wood, whether or not we find him."

Leaves rustled with displeasure, but without misleading whispers. Elrohir grinned, earning a scowl from his brother.

"You would think he made love to them," Elladan muttered softly, shaking his head, but his disgruntled expression faded into a slight smile.

Elrohir laughed merrily, but then sobered as the sound of distant thunder reached his ears. The clouds weighed more heavily with foreboding than they did rain.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

_I wonder if it is possible to shiver out of one's skin, _Legolas contemplated abstractedly. The rain seemed to be soaking right into his bones, chilling the marrow within. He pondered the odd feeling as the chill spread slowly. It seemed to consume all the warmth and strength of his being, until soon there would be nothing but cold permeating every ounce of him. _Is this what it feels like to be mortal? Does Aragorn feel it…day by day, the waning of his strength? The cold hand of death creeping closer…leeching the warmth of life from mortal body? Is this what it feels like…what it feels like to die?'_

Legolas absently lifted a hand to the round top of his ear and a shudder ran through him.

_Nay! I will not think of it! It cannot be, _his mind insisted, and his fingers tugged at the ear, as though they might somehow be able to reshape it…to remake the graceful point that should be there. _I do not accept this! It cannot be! I will not think of it!_

He forced his hand down and his thoughts elsewhere. Tugging futilely at his sopping cloak, he glanced down at the river rising about his feet and considered his boots, which – though it hardly seemed possible – were even soggier than his cloak.

_We will be swimming if we do not find a path to higher ground soon._ The river had risen over his feet, increasing the strain of each step. Legolas sighed. He had thus far managed not to limp noticeably, but his injured right ankle would not bear his weight much longer.

_Estel has enough plaguing his mind,_ the prince reminded himself, shoving aside the realization he would soon need to lean on the ranger.

Hunched beneath his cloak, Aragorn tugged at his hood. He'd already pulled it down as far as it would stretch, but that wasn't enough to be of any real use with his face upturned, searching for a path out of the ravine. The ranger paused to wipe the rain out of his eyes, and then shifted his gaze to his friend just as the elf's hand disappeared inside his hood, again. An image of what the long, slender fingers were feeling drifted through Aragorn's mind.

_Nay, do not yet spare thought for his ears. The shape of them will be of little import if we linger down here much longer,_ Aragorn chided and forced his attention back to the wall of the ravine. As feared, the terrain had grown worse. He no longer sought a path up the steep, brush-covered slope they'd tumbled down, but up a wall of barren stone.

_Is that a ledge beneath yonder overhang?_ The thick rain obscured his sight, making it difficult to be certain. Narrowing his eyes, Aragorn studied the deep shadow, until an awkward movement ahead distracted him. His gaze swung back to Legolas as the elf recovered from a stumble. _Is he limping?_

"Legolas!" The prince grimaced at the ranger's anxious tone, but halted, allowing Aragorn to catch up with him.

The ranger's discerning gaze swept over the elf, but he resisted comment. _Neither tending to his injury nor scolding him for hiding it will serve any purpose if we are swamped while I do it._

Stifling a frustrated sigh, he pointed. "There appears to be a sheltered ledge ahead."

Legolas studied the shadowed overhang. _Shelter? It does not offer much, but it is at least higher ground._

He shifted his gaze to the surrounding rock. The cliff side was cracked and broken near the bottom, forming an awkward sort of stair, but a few feet beyond the ledge, it grew impassible.

"I know, but we will drown down here," Aragorn sighed. The elf's hood veiled his wary expression, but the ranger knew it was there. _I do not like the idea of getting trapped up there, either, but what choice have we?_

OOOOOOOOOOOO

A large raindrop trickled down a leaf and splattered atop Elladan's head, and then rolled slowly down his brow. He wiped it away and gave the branch a malevolent look, before tugging at the hood he'd let slip while pondering which direction to continue the search.

"The tree is hardly to blame," his brother remarked, tossing him a distracted grin. Elladan glowered in reply, but Elrohir didn't notice.

"At least they no longer seek to lead us astray," the elder twin consoled, a nervous undertone creeping into his voice.

Elrohir returned another preoccupied smile; his attention was focused on the fretful whispers surrounding them. The trees were indeed no longer intentionally misleading them. Instead, they sought to aid them with an eagerness that was more confusing than helpful. Whispers came from every direction, concern for 'their' wood-elf rippling through every leaf. But these trees knew naught of the elf's fate; they only echoed the distress of other distant trees. They spoke of Estel not at all. Elrohir hoped that meant the ranger, at least, was well. Yet, trouble was not likely to have found one and left the other untouched.

"We will find them," Elladan assured. He managed an expression of would-be confidence, hoping to convince himself, as much as his brother.

"Of course we will," Elrohir replied absentmindedly. Settling on a direction, he urged his horse back into motion.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Legolas hissed softly as Aragorn eased the boot off his ankle. The ranger managed to grimace apologetically, while glaring reproachfully.

"I know, I know," the prince murmured drowsily. "I should have spoken of it sooner."

"Yes, mellon-nin, you should have," Aragorn retorted, frowning irritably. With a soft sigh of exasperation, Legolas closed his eyes and rested his head against the cold, but dry, rock beneath the sheltering overhang.

The ranger gently prodded the ankle. It was undeniably sprained, but the chill river water had, at least, served to keep the swelling down. Relieved, he tore a long strip from his nearly-dry under-tunic and securely wrapped the injury. Easing the elf's boot back on to provide extra support, Aragorn jerked the ankle more than intended, but Legolas didn't react. His frown deepening, the ranger glanced up to discover the prince had fallen asleep.

_It is hardly to be wondered at; we are both exhausted,_ Aragorn reassured himself, but he felt little comfort. The elf's closed eyes, combined with the deathly pallor of his skin, caused an ominous knot to form in the ranger's stomach.

"He is only sleeping," Aragorn muttered aloud, grasping hold of the slim comfort offered by Legolas's shallow breathing. Battling the sudden urge to shake the elf back to consciousness, he pressed a hand against his friend's cheek. It was cold and damp, but, no doubt, so was his own. "…Only sleeping."

Forcing his attention back to his ministrations, he unclasped Legolas's quiver and cloak. The clothing beneath wasn't much drier, but removing one layer of wet seemed an improvement. Legolas didn't stir at all as Aragorn slid the cloak out from beneath him, causing the knot in the ranger's stomach to pull tighter.

Pushing his worry aside, Aragorn studied the wolf bite. The swelling had abated, somewhat, allowing blood to ooze from the wound. Aragorn found the sight disconcerting, but it still did not appear serious. Forcing himself to move on, he eased the under-tunic from Legolas's dislocated shoulder. The swelling and bruising had worsened, but the shoulder had stayed in place. Pleased, Aragorn shifted his gaze to the blood staining the elf's chest. Pushing up the silky fabric, he found the long claw marks standing out darker than ever against the elf's ghostly pale skin. Still oozing blood, their edges had grown red and puffy.

Aragorn ground his teeth in frustration and self-recrimination. He'd taken no thought for the possibility of infection when he'd initially tended the wounds. Elves were immune to pestilence, and Legolas was an elf…or at least he had been. Was he now? The ranger's eyes drifted up to his friend's rounded ears. Another knot twisting in his stomach, Aragorn cursed aloud. He had not gathered anything with which to treat infection.

Pulling the tunic back down, Aragorn eased Legolas onto the stone floor to rest more comfortably. Then he rose and wandered to the edge of their rocky shelter. Staring despairingly into the gloom, Aragorn sighed. Imladris had never seemed so far away.

_OOOOOOOOOOOO_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Ambling out onto the west porch, Elrond smiled amusedly at the young ones chasing around the garden. The merry laughter of twin elflings rang out as Elladan tagged Estel, spawning a frustrated stomp of a foot. The mortal child's reflexes would never be as quick as his brothers. All the same, it didn't take long for him shake off his pout and race after the nearest elfling. Legolas quickly dodged, a broad grin lighting his fair features. He was younger and smaller than the twins, but that didn't make him easier to catch. Elrond laughed aloud as little Arwen darted out of a shadow to trip the golden-haired elfling, allowing Estel to tag him. His amusement faded, though, as Legolas bounded off in pursuit of his daughter.

_This cannot be_ came the gradual realization. The twins and Arwen were born a century apart, Legolas centuries after Arwen and Estel millennia after that. Legolas had never visited Imladris as an elfling. Nor, for that matter, had any of them ever played in the garden before the west porch, for there was no garden before the west porch.

His brow deeply furrowed, Elrond moved toward the nearest young one, but quickly halted. A familiar figure approached, hand outstretched, bearing upon it a stone-carven water lily. Elrond took a reflexive step backward. He wanted this gift no more now than when it had last been offered. Dropping his arm, the figure turned, stepping toward the young ones.

"Daro!" Elrond shouted, intending to bolt for his children, but he found his feet would not move.

"Daro!" He repeated, but this time no sound came forth. Elrond growled, trembling in fear and frustration. Paying him no heed, the figure wandered amongst the young ones, until he reached the golden-haired elfling. Legolas peered at him, eyes alight with curiosity. The figure extended a hand, caressing the young cheek in a gesture that seemed to Elrond almost mournfully apologetic. Fear rising, he struggled to reach the elfling, but to no avail. His feet would not move.

Elrond watched helplessly as the figure reached down to grasp Legolas's hand. Lifting it, he turned the elfling's palm upward and placed the stone upon it. Elrond tried again to shout as Legolas closed his fingers around it. The elfling only grinned at him and raised the stone for a better look.

"Legolas!"

Elrond's gaze turned to a pale, travel-worn, golden-haired elf sprinting toward the elfling. Frowning at the panic in his ada's shout, Legolas reached out a hand. Thranduil stretched his own hand out to grasp the little fingers, but as they touched, the child faded to naught. Knees buckling, Thranduil crumpled with an anguished cry. Reflexively moving to the Elvenking's side, Elrond abstractly registered that his feet were no longer frozen. Not that it mattered any longer. Legolas was gone.

Dropping to his knees before Thranduil, Elrond reached out to embrace him, but then abruptly pulled back. Grasped tightly within the Elvenking's arms lay Legolas, no longer the elfling that had faded away moments before, but the grown elf Elrond knew so well…except that he wasn't. His brow furrowed in bewilderment, Elrond reached a tentative hand toward the top of a round ear.

"He is gone…and I cannot follow."

Thranduil's anguished words echoing in his ears, Elrond jerked awake to find Glorfindel standing over him, concern filling his deep grey eyes.

"Are you well, my friend?" he queried, releasing Elrond's shoulder to sit beside him. Elrond frowned, inexplicably missing the feel of the touch he'd not registered until it was removed.

"I am. I seem to a have drifted off to sleep for a moment, but I am well," he murmured, vaguely. Closing his eyes, Elrond drew a deep breath. He then looked again upon his friend and smiled.

Glorfindel returned the smile dubiously. It was uncommon, to say the least, for the lord of Imladris to drift off to sleep while sitting in his garden. Keeping a concerned eye on his friend, Glorfindel waited for an explanation with an air of patient expectation.

Elrond chuckled. "Truly, my friend, I am well. You need not be concerned."

Glorfindel nodded and, frowning slightly, rose. Elrond's tone, though light, left little doubt that the elf lord had been excused.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Baelorn dropped down to sit cross-legged beside his slumbering father-in-law. The horses were rested enough to resume the journey, but he couldn't bring himself to wake the king. Thranduil had not slept during their last brief halt and likely would not rest again until forced.

"Legolas!"

Baelorn bolted back to his feet as the panicked shout echoed through the surrounding trees. His gaze darted to his father-in-law. Eyes tightly closed, Thranduil reached desperately for something unseen. The hand fell a moment later and an anguished cry filled the air.

"Adar!" Grasping the King by the arms, Baelorn shook him gently. Thranduil jerked upright, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"He is gone…and I cannot follow," he gasped.

"Nay, nay, it was only a dream," Baelorn soothed, gathering the King into his arms and rocking comfortingly.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Head cocked like a curious bird, Legolas studied the stone-carven water lily clutched tightly in his hand. He didn't remember picking it up.

"Legolas!"

Frowning at the panicked shout, Legolas looked up to see his ada sprinting toward him. He reached a hand out to the king, but as their fingers met, Thranduil faded away. Brow furrowed, Legolas took a step toward the place his ada had been, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

Looking up, he smiled uncertainly at the familiar face peering at him. His expression faded as he registered that the figure was not as he should be. Lord Elrond's long, flowing locks were not ebony, but grey. His face was worn and wrinkled with age, and his eyes were no longer clear and bright.

"Elros?" he mused aloud. The figure beside him gave a sad smile of acknowledgement, before nodding to the stone still clutched in Legolas's hand.

"It is a gift not intended for you." Brow furrowing, Legolas held out his hand, offering the stone, but Elros shook his head. Reaching up, he cupped the elf's cheek, his expression mournfully apologetic. "Nay. Once the gift is given, it cannot be undone. But do not be afraid, young one, for though none may walk this path with you, I shall be waiting at the end of it to greet you."

Legolas opened his mouth to ask what path he was to walk, but a sudden rumble of deep coughing woke him with a start.

_Do not be afraid_, echoed in his mind as the vision faded quickly. His eyes darted around the small ledge, until they finally landed on Aragorn.

Jerked awake by a spate of harsh coughing, Aragorn sat gasping for several seconds, before registering that he'd fallen asleep. He pushed himself to his feet, cursing aloud, and peered out into the ravine. The thick black clouds still hovered overhead, seeming even gloomier in the gathering dark of evenfall. The ranger cursed again. He'd slept away the afternoon.

"At least the rain has stopped."

Aragorn spun in the direction of the weak, breathless voice and found Legolas grinning wearily. The ranger smiled back unconvincingly, concern spreading across his features. A slight blush of fever tinged the elf's ashen cheeks.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Ai, brother, I fear we have followed the wrong path," Elrohir growled. His frustration growing, he abruptly reined in his horse and dismounted to examine the ground more closely.

"Nay! Your eyes are open but your ears are closed. You no longer heed the trees," Elladan countered.

Resting his forehead against the neck of his horse, Elrohir closed his eyes and listened wearily. Tension still flowed from the trees in stifling waves, but their whispers spoke now of thankfulness that aid for 'their' wood-elf drew near. Sagging with relief, Elrohir rested a moment longer, before glancing up sheepishly.

"Come, let us...," began Elladan, but the rest of his thought flew away as the shifting wind carried the sound of wolves to his ears. Rising up in his saddle, he peered into the deepening shadows, and then shared a meaningful glance with his brother. "Wolves…just the sort of trouble Estel would attract."

"Trouble, indeed, but naught beyond our skill. Let us hope they have met with nothing worse," Elrohir replied. Quickly remounting, he urged his horse onward.

Elladan nodded his agreement, more optimistically than he felt. Wolves did not seem a great enough threat to explain the tension in the air. He felt, more than saw, the creatures in the shadows as a dead wolf came into view. Tossing his reins to Elrohir, he leapt down for a closer look, while his brother, bow in hand, watched over him.

"Estel's...," he murmured. Yanking an arrow from the carcass, he leapt back onto his horse. His expression was grim as he met Elrohir's eyes. "Let us follow the wolves' path."

Elrohir nodded and pressed on, keeping his bow ready. Breaking through into thinner trees, the twins halted before a swatch of muddy ground. It was littered with a jumble of wolf tracks that were punctuated now and then by the broken shaft of an arrow. The twins dismounted, Elrohir keeping watch, while his brother examined the tracks. Elladan moved toward the edge of a steep ravine, skirting the bodies of several slaughtered wolves.

"There is a deep print here," he announced, kneeling beside a gnarled root near the base of a charred tree.

"Estel's?" His twin queried.

"Nay," Elladan replied, distractedly. "It is strange. The shape is that of an elven boot, but no elf would leave such an imprint."

His brow furrowing with incomprehension, Elrohir spared his brother a quick glance. Elladan, focused on the nearest wolf, took no notice. A white tip peeked out from beneath the carcass, though not quite far enough to make out.

'Only a rock or bit of bone,' he assured himself, but fear swelled in his heart. Edging closer, Elladan rolled the wolf aside to reveal the bloodied white-haft of an elven knife. His breath catching in his throat, he quickly snatched it up, before scrutinizing the surrounding ground.

"Legolas's knife," he murmured aloud. "But these prints cannot be his..."

"It is that of an elven boot..."

"Nay," Elladan gainsaid, a slightly desperate edge creeping into his voice. "The shape is elven, but they are too deep... The maker fell or, perhaps, tripped over the root."

He crept along, eyes fixed upon the ground, until the prints vanished beneath a charred branch.

"He fell again here, or another fell, for there are another's prints here, as well. Estel's, I guess. Their shape is that of a ranger's boot. Both sets of prints emerge from down there. One, at least, descended again...both, I guess, for none other than wolf prints move off in any other direction as far as my eyes can see.

Stepping nearer the edge of the ravine, Elladan peered downward. Elrohir, too, unconsciously moved closer, though his gaze continued to roam the tree-shadows.

"Ai!" the elder twin cried out.

Elrohir rushed to his brother's side and, lowering his bow, peered into the ravine. A glint of white caught his eye. Elladan waved a hand at him, and he took it, steadying his brother as he reached into a shrub and pulled forth another white-hafted knife. The twins' gazes met; the same thought visible in each expression. Legolas would never willingly leave behind his weapons.

Pulling Elladan up beside him, Elrohir peered into the swollen river below and sighed mournfully. _A peril worthy indeed of the trees' distress._

He closed his eyes, turning his face into the rain that had dwindled to hardly more than a gentle sprinkle. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened his eyes and gazed, once more, at the perilous waters filling the ravine.

"They may have climbed out again elsewhere," he suggested, weakly.

"Indeed," Elladan agreed, too readily. "Or they might have found refuge within the ravine, yet above the waters."

Nodding forlornly, Elrohir called the horses to them and turned to search downstream. A gentle hand on his shoulder stilled him.

"We will find them, my brother," Elladan assured.

Elrohir attempted a confident smile. "Yes, of course we will."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Elrond rose, intending to wander out to the terrace path. Forgetting to move his feet, he stared absentmindedly into the sweet-scented blossoms of his garden.

His gaze drifting up to the western horizon, Elrond frowned. Dense grey clouds still hovered overhead...and his sons had not returned. Legolas had not returned. A shudder of foreboding running down his spine, Elrond closed his eyes. He took several slow, steadying breaths and gradually grew aware of another presence.

"Stop hovering in the shadows, my friend, and watch with me as Anor descends," Elrond beckoned, turning.

"Your pardon," Glorfindel begged politely. Grinning lopsidedly, he stepped back into the garden. "I did not mean to intrude."

"Did you not?" Elrond countered, with an expression of mock-disbelief.

Glorfindel grinned again, before replying, "You are troubled."

"Nay..." Elrond argued. Turning away, he moved toward the terrace path.

"It was not a question, my friend." Falling in step, Glorfindel took Elrond by the arm. "Would that you might share the burden of your thoughts with me and lessen the weight you carry upon your shoulders."

Elrond leaned into him, finding comfort in the brotherly touch. He was hesitant to speak, though. A surge of irrational fear coursed through him at the thought of telling another of his dreams. Kept to himself, he could deny they were a portent of doom, but once voiced...

_Yet, if they are a portent, refusing to heed them will not alter the outcome,_ he sternly reminded himself. Settling his gaze on the dense clouds, Elrond's thoughts strayed to the four young ones beneath them. Glorfindel's gaze followed.

"Neither man nor elf melts in the rain," he quipped, earning a slight smile from Elrond. The expression soon faded.

"All the same, my friend, I would have liked to see them return before evenfall," the peredhil replied softly.

"You fear for them?" Glorfindel mused aloud, hearing the anxious undertone in his friend's voice. "This is what troubles you?"

"I fear for Legolas," came a barely audible admission.

"Legolas?" Glorfindel raised a startled brow. "But not Estel?"

"Tis not Estel who faded away," Elrond muttered under his breath.

"The dream from which I woke you...?" Taking the soft sigh that answered him as confirmation, Glorfindel ventured, "It foretold of doom befalling our wood-elf?"

"It did indeed," Elrond admitted, mournfully. "A doom not meant for him...but for me."

Glorfindel frowned, uneasily.

"A gift...offered me soon after the birth of the twins, when my heart weighed heavy with thoughts of my brother," Elrond elaborated.

"What was this gift?" the elf lord inquired, warily.

"A vision of the fate of Men," came a terse reply.

Glorfindel's brows rose nearly to his hairline. "But only...? How...?"

"Of that I have no knowledge," Elrond whispered, despairingly. "For believing it to be a trick of the enemy, I would not hear and turned the messenger away. I fear that somehow this gift has found its way into Legolas's hand and naught but sorrow shall come of it."

"Grieve not, my friend. Legolas will return to us...and whatever has befallen him shall be amended," Glorfindel soothed in a confident tone, but his expression darkened. Tightening his grip on Elrond's arm, he gazed pensively upon the horizon

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Yes, the weather has turned at last. Let us hope that our luck has, as well," Aragorn jested, straining to keep his voice light. Legolas chuckled appreciatively, but his eyelids drooped wearily.

The ranger's feigned smile slipped into an anxious frown. Scooting closer, he noted with despair that Legolas shivered like a young leaf in the wind and a bluish tint had crept onto his lips. A fresh knot tying in his stomach, Aragorn rose to retrieve his friend's cloak. It was still far too damp to provide much warmth, but having nothing better to offer, he began to tuck it securely around his friend.

"Your hands are like ice..." Forcing his voice to remain casual, Aragorn paused to warm them with his own.

"Thank you, mellon-nin. That is a great improvement," Legolas whispered, smiling ever so slightly.

Aragorn returned it, though the elf didn't open his eyes to see. Finishing with the cloak, he pressed a hand to Legolas's cheek. It was warm, but not as hot as the feverish blush portended.

The ranger sighed, softly. _Ai! Ada, he is fading, and I have not the skill to sustain him. He needs you...I need you._

Frustration coursing through him, Aragorn rose abruptly and strode to the edge of their small shelter. The hurried movement spawned a fresh spate of coughing, and he nearly growled as, behind him, Legolas stirred.

"I fear the chill rain did neither of us any...," the elf began, but his words fell away as Aragorn grew suddenly alert. Tension surging into his spent body, Legolas pulled himself awkwardly up and moved unsteadily toward his friend. He halted; his head tilting curiously, as Aragorn abruptly faced him, grinning broadly.

"Be at ease. It is only my brothers."

Relief washing over him, Legolas swayed slightly, his borrowed strength draining swiftly away.

"Easy...," Aragorn murmured. He rushed over to wrap a supportive arm around the elf's waist. Legolas squirmed away clumsily.

"I am well," he mumbled, earning an exasperated glare from his friend. Gingerly lowering himself back onto the stone floor, Legolas laughed breathlessly. "Go, fetch your bothers. I promise I shall not move so much as a finger until your return."

Aragorn made a face at him. He then strode back to the edge and, carefully climbing the broken stone, vanished quickly from sight.

Legolas let his head fall back and closed his eyes, but he did not relax. The realization that he would see the twins - or, more importantly, that they would soon see him - made his mind reel. Alone with Estel, he'd been able to focus on the ranger and put off thoughts of...of the shape his ears. With the elven twins, though... Legolas sighed, dejectedly.

Fearing despair would overwhelm him, he forced his thoughts elsewhere. They settled on lingering images from his dream and Elros' words, still echoing through his thoughts. He spun them round and round his head, and their meaning seemed to grow clearer with each pass, and with understanding came ever-greater fear. Opening his eyes, Legolas gazed unseeingly across the ravine.

OOOOOOOOOOOO


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Estel! Legolas!" a voice cried.

"Legolas! Estel!" followed an identical voice.

Aragorn nearly melted in relief as the shouts drew nearer. His brothers were not quite as comforting as his father, but they were, at least, certain to have medicines and bandages...and possibly even a dry blanket or cloak.

"Elladan! Elrohir! Down here!"

Silence fell above so thick that an apprehensive shiver ran down Aragorn's spine. Frowning, he opened his mouth to shout again. It promptly shut as two identical faces peered down at him.

"There you are, little brother," Elladan bade.

"What in Eru's name are you doing down there?" Elrohir quizzed.

"You said you were going hunting...," observed Elladan.

"Not fishing," finished Elrohir.

"Where is Legolas?" they asked in unison, the relief that had bubbled from each syllable slipping away as they simultaneously registered the wood-elf's absence.

Aragorn's face, which had split into a wide grin, fell instantly.

"He is here," the ranger shouted, gesturing behind him. "He is...he is injured."

The twins exchanged glances, their expressions grim.

"Have you a rope? I do not think we can climb this?" Aragorn asked tensely.

As Elrohir disappeared from sight, Elladan tossed the ranger an injured look. "Of course we have rope, little brother."

Aragorn rolled his eyes, but was spared responding by Elrohir's return. He caught the rope as the twin tossed an end down and hastened back to his friend.

"Time to go!" The ranger grinned as Legolas's eyes met his. Focused on getting the elf to his feet, he didn't notice the hesitance of the return smile.

"I will manage, Estel," the elf huffed in exasperation, as the ranger started to tie the rope around his chest, and then paused, remembering Legolas's injured shoulder. Aragorn finished the knot and wrapped an arm securely about the elf's waist. Legolas opened his mouth to protest.

"Save your breath for the climb, mellon-nin. I do not doubt that you can walk unaided, but it will not do you any harm to lean on me just a little," Aragorn countered, preemptively, silencing his friend with a stern glare.

Legolas sighed in resignation and allowed Aragorn to guide him out onto the broken stone 'steps'.

"What mischief have you let our brother get you into this time, little one?" Elrohir chirped, grinning down as the wood-elf appeared.

Biting his lip to keep from moaning, Legolas grimaced in a half-hearted attempt at an amused smile as the other twin heaved him out of the ravine.

"Ai! You are frozen right through. Let us find a suitable place to build a fire, before we have a look at the damage," Elladan suggested, pulling the prince's arm over his shoulders and helping him to his feet. Too breathless to speak, Legolas went without protest.

Elrohir tossed the rope back down to Aragorn. "Come, little brother. No doubt you are quite frozen, as well."

Pulling himself over the lip of the ravine, Aragorn grimaced in confirmation.

"Well, you look terrible, but that is not unexpected," the elf teased, offering a hand to help him to his feet. Aragorn simply rolled his eyes and hastened after his friend. Following in his wake, Elrohir chuckled, but his lightened spirit sobered as he caught up to his twin. Elladan had halted and was looking somewhat bemused.

"What...?"

Even as Elladan distractedly waved away Aragorn's query, Elrohir grew aware of what troubled his twin - the trees. They sang rejoicing that 'their' wood-elf was again beneath their boughs. Yet they also lamented his loss. The twins' bewildered eyes met briefly, and then turned upon Legolas.

Elladan raised the wood-elf's drooping chin with a gentle hand and gazed questioningly into his eyes, but Legolas was spared responding. Sweeping back escaped tendrils of golden hair and tucking them behind an ear, the twin found the answer for himself.

"Well, this is unexpected," Elrohir murmured evenly. Legolas ducked his head, self-consciously.

"Indeed," Elladan replied softly, meeting Elrohir's eyes. Both gazes shifted to Estel's woeful countenance. "But let us first concern ourselves with getting the young ones warm."

"Indeed," his twin replied, in an overly cheery tone. "Come, little brother, and help me seek out some dry wood."

Aragorn raised a dubious brow.

"Help me seek out some damp wood, then," the twin amended with a smile and dragged the ranger off.

"Tell me, little one, how has this come to be?" Elladan asked gently, lowering Legolas to the ground and propping him against a fallen log.

"I know not," Legolas choked and cast his gaze downward to hide the tears he battled. The twin gave his arm a supportive squeeze.

"Let us get you out of these damp clothes," he suggested, in soothing tones. "Can you manage?"

Nodding, Legolas moved trembling hands to his suede outer-tunic. Elladan gave his arm another squeeze, and then rose and moved to the horses that had trailed behind, dutifully. Swiftly removing the baggage, he pulled out a bundle of kindling, a dry cloak, his medicine bag, and a water skin. Turning back to Legolas, he got an eyeful of his friend's marred chest.

"What did you do?" he queried. "Offer yourself up as a meal?"

Legolas smiled wanly, but his eyes did not leave lap. Sighing inaudibly, Elladan set to work building a fire.

"Estel will not be pleased to see that when he returns," the wood-elf remarked, attempting a casual tone, and failing.

"Indeed," laughed the twin. "I have no doubt he will be most disgruntled about it."

Elladan reached for his medicine bag, pleased to see a slight smile grace Legolas's lips. Pulling out a small copper bowl, he filled it with water and set it to warm by the fire, before carefully selecting and stirring in various herbs. He then gathered the remaining medicines back into the bag and gazed pensively into the dancing flames while he gathered himself. Finally, Elladan turned and set to work cleaning and bandaging Legolas's still oozing wounds.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Carrying an armful of damp wood, Aragorn halted just within sight and watched Elladan wrap Legolas in a dry cloak. Absorbed in the scene, he jumped as a hand clasped his shoulder from behind.

"Come, little brother. Elladan tends to Legolas; let me see to you. After that, if you are still awake, you may worry over the prince once more."

Frowning, Aragorn allowed his brother to tow him back into camp. He halted abruptly as the small fire that had been hidden behind his companions came into view.

"You already had...?" he spluttered.

"Certainly! And it is dry," Elladan interposed, giving Legolas a conspiratorial wink before turning to face Aragorn.

"Then why...?" Aragorn began, but Elrohir cut him off.

"So that we might see that look upon your face, of course. Now, sit and let me have a look at you."

Aragorn sat, scowling as his brother peeled him out of his wet garments.

"Drink this, little brother," Elladan ordered. Taking care not to burn his fingers, he lifted the copper bowl and brought it to Aragorn, who frowned argumentatively. "Hush, do not be quarrelsome. You know you will end up drinking it in the end."

Aragorn drank; his frown deepening as drowsy warmth spread slowly through him.

"Well, you seem little the worse for wear," Elrohir declared, smirking as the ranger's eyelids began to droop. "How does your breathing feel, now?"

"Better," Aragorn slurred sleepily, his brow furrowing in wonderment. He had not realized until the question was asked how much easier breathing had become.

Exchanging a glance and a smile with his twin, Elrohir handed Elladan a dry cloak to wrap around the ranger, while he spread a blanket out upon the ground. He left his brother to coax the ranger to lie down upon it and turned to see to the horses. He paused, though, as his gaze drifted past Legolas. The wood-elf had moved to the other side of the fallen log and sat with his back turned to them. Shoulders hunched, he stared dejectedly into the deepening forest gloom.

Legolas tugged miserably at the cloak about his shoulders. He felt an intruder in the brothers' reunion - as disconnected from their bond as he was from the trees and the stars, and even the earth upon which he sat. Closing his eyes, Legolas let his thoughts wonder, in hopes of delaying the tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks.

Do not be afraid, his mind whispered.

_I am trying not to be, _Legolas answered, despairingly. _But I am - very afraid - and so very alone. Do not leave me to walk this path unaided._

"You are not alone, little one."

Startled, Legolas peered up to find Elrohir standing beside him. Smiling shrewdly, the twin settled in at his side and wrapped a brotherly arm around him.

"How...?" the prince stammered. He was certain he had not spoken his thoughts aloud. Elrohir chuckled, wanly.

"You forget I have known you since you were smaller than my bow. It was not difficult to guess your mind."

Legolas managed a sheepish half-smile, but the expression soon faded back into despair.

"The trees no longer whisper. The stars no longer sing. Even the stones refuse to speak. All around me is naught but silence. I _am_ alone."

"Nay, Elrohir whispered, tightening his hold on the wood-elf. "The stars are veiled in cloud, but they still sing to all beneath them, and the trees...! Though they lament your loss, so loudly do they rejoice that you still live and are beneath them once more that even a dwarf could hear their songs."

"Yet I do not," the wood-elf lamented.

"Perhaps you need to learn to listen with different ears, little one."

Legolas's gaze fixed upon a nearby stone.

"You are not alone, Legolas," Elrohir reiterated. "Whatever comes of this, we will be with you, in heart and mind, if we cannot be so in body."

Lifting a fatigued hand, Legolas gave Elrohir's a grateful squeeze.

"Come now, Elladan did not drug you as he did Estel, but that does not mean you are not expected to sleep," the twin informed him with a wry grin.

Returning a weary smile, Legolas shifted around to face the fire and discovered a bed of blankets waiting for him. Allowing Elrohir to ease him over to it, he nodded appreciatively to both twins and settled in as comfortably as his aching body permitted. His heavy eyelids promptly closed of their own accord, but Legolas continued to listen drowsily to the shuffling sounds of horses being unsaddled and the twins murmuring to each other. They spoke too softly to make out words, but their voices hummed in his ears like a gentle lullaby...and gradual comprehension sank into his weary brain.

_Learn to listen with different ears._

A slight smile creeping onto his lips, Legolas bent his round-ears upon the trees and let the soft, wordless, rustling of leaves sing him to sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Closing the distance between their horses, Baelorn frowned at the steady murmur coming from his father-in-law. He was still a length behind, though, and couldn't quite make out words.

"Adar?" he queried anxiously, but Thranduil was focused on the distant mountains and did not hear. Pressing forward, Baelorn strained to hear the King clearly.

"Stay, Las-nin! Do not yet depart! I am coming! Tarry a while longer! I am coming, Las-nin! Wait for me! I am coming!"

Baelorn pushed ahead to check the King's horse. Thranduil merely turned its head, intent upon sidestepping the obstacle blocking his path, but Baelorn snagged the bridle.

"Adar!" he demanded, adjusting his balance as Thranduil prodded his horse. The beast, though, was too weary to break Baelorn's grip.

"Adar!" Baelorn shouted, again, seeking to gain the King's eye. "Thranduil!"

Thranduil turned his head at last, settling glazed eyes upon his son-in-law.

"We should rest. The horses are very near collapse," Baelorn proclaimed, adding silently, _As are you._

Concern for the horses might penetrate the fog of desperation that had thickened with Thranduil's nightmare; concern for himself would not.

"There is a town of Men a little south of here, not far from a better ford than we shall find this far north. Let us go there and tend the horses properly before we cross the river."

The King's gaze shifted past his son-in-law to the river, glinting golden red in the rays of the rising sun, and then beyond to the mountains. His thoughts ventured onward to Imladris…to Legolas. His leaf would not tarry long…and Thranduil could not follow after him. He must hasten, yet he could feel the horse sagging beneath him. The animal would not remain on its legs much longer.

"Adar, we must rest the hors…."

"South…we will go south," Thranduil interjected, with a sudden enthusiasm that Baelorn found rather alarming.

"I am coming, Las-nin! Wait for me! I am coming! Do not yet depart…," the king resumed, prodding his weary horse into a canter the moment Baelorn released it.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

A familiar tickle grew in Aragorn's throat, prodding him slowly into consciousness. A gravelly rumbling in his lungs followed, and he groggily pushed himself up just in time to double over as a spasm of coughing hit full force.

"Drink this, little brother."

Glowering suspiciously, Aragorn raised his eyes to the cup held out before him, and then to the elf holding it.

"You need not fear," Elladan replied, with a merry laugh. "I have no wish to send you back into slumber just yet. The sun rises. We must soon be on our way."

Aragorn accepted the cup warily, all the same, and sipped the contents half-heartedly. He frowned as familiar warmth washed through him and eased the congestion that had reclaimed his chest during the night. It was not, though, accompanied by drowsiness, and the ranger's expression gradually lightened.

"My thanks, brother," he said. Returning the emptied cup, he rose, stiffly, and reflexively sought Legolas.

"He sleeps still and is much in need of it, so do not pester him," Elladan admonished, with a glare of warning that was entirely worthy of his sire. Aragorn nodded, obediently.

"It would seem that the two of you sought out trouble with your usual skill, little brother," Elrohir teased softly, rising from beside the fire as Legolas began to stir restlessly, though he did not wake. Crouching down beside the prince, he pressed a soothing hand to his cheek.

"Peace, little one," the twin whispered. "Do not be afraid. You are not alone."

Seeking to distract Aragorn, Elladan wrapped a brotherly arm around him. "Come, sit a while and tell us the tale."

"There is little to tell," the ranger replied, dropping down to sit cross-legged beside the fire. Elladan snorted incredulously, earning a scowl.

"Be that the case, we will gladly settle for the part of the tale in which Legolas's ears take upon themselves the unbecoming shape that they now own."

Aragorn's scowl fell into a slight frown. When had his friend's ears taken on this new form?

"The wolf scout attacked him, knocking him into the ravine," he pondered aloud to himself. "I followed after, but he had killed the wolf before I reached them…I rolled the carcass off him and guided him to the fallen log…." _Were his ears round then?_

Aragorn's frowned deepened with concentration. "My thoughts were bent upon his wounds; I did not think to…no, I would not have seen…they were hidden. His head was bowed, buried in his hands and shrouded by his hair; until I laid him down…then they were hidden beneath his arm."

"His arm?" Elladan queried, raising a confused brow.

"Yes," the ranger answered, absently. "He drew his arm over his eyes nearly the moment I released it…his head ached. His head ached…?"

Aragorn's face scrunched into a pained expression, as he struggled to find an answer within his memory. "His head ached! What was the cause of the ache? Was it…were his ears yet round…?"

"We should start, perchance, with when you first took note of his rounded ears," Elrohir prompted, leaving Legolas and dropping down to sit beside the fire. His soft voice belied his impatience to gain coherent information from the young Man. Aragorn's face relaxed slightly. That was a question he could answer.

"It was when we awoke in the morn. His eyes were closed…was that because…?" The ranger's voiced faded into thought.

"His eyes were closed…," Elladan prompted, less successfully hiding his impatience.

"Yes, closed. I spared little thought for it at the time…with his wounds and aching head…but I could not see his wounds …there was no light…"

Losing the thread of thought, again, Elrohir nearly growled in frustration. "His ears, little brother! When did you notice his ears?"

"Yes, yes, his ears…," Aragorn huffed impatiently, having forgotten that he had an audience. "It was then, when I bent to inspect his wounds, that he roused, raising his head, and I first noticed the…unexpected shape of his ears."

The twins frowned in unison, finding naught in the disjointed tale to explain Legolas's state of being.

"Was there anything unusual about this wolf that injured him?" Elrohir inquired.

"Was there aught else that might explain what happened?" his twin quizzed.

"Did you encounter something unexpected before the wolf, or in the ravine?" further pressed Elrohir.

"Nay, nay!" Shaking his head in frustration, Aragorn raised his hands as if they might ward off the onslaught of questions, or the remorse growing within him. He had dragged Legolas on this hunt, and now he had no answers that might help to undo the evil that had come of it.

A fresh spate of coughing interrupted Aragorn's silent reproach, leaving him momentarily breathless. Crouching at his side, Elladan rubbed his back soothingly.

"Your pardon, Estel," he sighed, fearing that Aragorn's growing agitation had induced the spasm. "Be at ease. There is no blame laid upon you."

"Indeed, little brother," Elrohir agreed, crouching at the ranger's other side and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Do not take this burden upon yourself. None could have foreseen this outcome."

Aragorn nodded, but did not meet either concerned gaze. The twins' worried eyes met, though, and Elladan sighed.

"Rest now," Elrohir instructed, giving Aragorn's shoulder another supportive squeeze. "Elladan and I will ready the horses."

"Perhaps Ada will have an answer to this riddle," Elladan added, reassuringly

Aragorn nodded again, but he continued to stare forlornly into the dwindling flames. After a moment, his brow furrowed.

"What is it?" His brothers inquired, hopefully.

"It is the wood I gathered last night that you are burning," the ranger answered, with some satisfaction. Elladan rolled his eyes, and Elrohir shook his head, but both smiled, relieved that Aragorn had been distracted before he truly began brooding.

"Yes, little brother," the elder twin assured. "Your efforts were not in vain. It is indeed your wood that now warms us."

The ranger grinned smugly and stretched out to rest more comfortably. Elladan shook his head and Elrohir chuckled, as the twins moved off to repack the horses.

Once out of earshot, Elladan's expression fell as he inquired, "How fares Legolas?"

Grim eyes meeting his twins', Elrohir replied simply, "We should hasten on our way."

OOOOOOOOOOOO


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six **

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Legolas frowned as a rather harried-looking Elvenking approached. There was an odd familiarity about the scene, though he couldn't quite place it. Still, anxiety clutched at his stomach. He reached a hand out to his beckoning sire. But as their fingers' met, a mist swallowed Thranduil whole. Brow furrowed, Legolas took a step toward the place his father had been, which seemed only to provoke the mist. It expanded and pressed in on him from every side.

Legolas twisted round frantically, searching for…anything, but there was naught. The stars were veiled, and their song stilled. The trees no longer murmured. Even the breeze had ceased to whisper. There was naught but swirling wisps of nothingness all around him.

Panic swelled in his chest, robbing Legolas of breath. He dropped dizzily to his knees. Squeezing his eyes shut to still the spinning world, he heard a familiar voice whisper, 'Peace, young one. Do not be afraid, you are not alone.'

Legolas lifted a hand to his face to capture the hand he felt pressed soothingly against his cheek, but he felt only his own flesh.

"Naaaaaay, Elros!" he wailed. "Do not leave! I am lost! I know not what path I am to walk! I beg you, do not desert me!"

A breeze stirred, caressing his tear-stained cheeks, and upon it he heard, _You are not alone, young one._

"I am," Legolas argued, desperately.

_Nay. You are not forsaken. I cannot walk the path with you, but never do the Children of Ilúvatar walk it alone._

Legolas sagged dispiritedly. His heart whispered the truth of the words, which brought some measure of comfort. Still, he was lost, and his heart whispered, equally, that he must walk the path of which Elros spoke, or be trapped forever in the pale nothingness swirling about him. Yet, he did not know what path that was, or where to find it.

_The path lies beneath your feet, young one. You need only stand and take a step to find it, and when you reach its end, there I will be waiting with open arms to receive you._

Brow furrowed, Legolas forced himself up off his knees. Peering at the ground beneath his feet, he watched in wonderment as some of the mist cleared, revealing that he did indeed stand upon a path. He took a tentative step, and more of the path opened up before him.

His despair lifting, Legolas followed the path, swift and eager. It led to a bridge across a wide abyss. Peering down into it, his eyes soon met more swirling mist, yet it was plain to see that it measured deep. Legolas could not help but wonder how far it fell, but he was not truly concerned. Though the bridge was narrow, demanding a sure foot, peace radiated from it, speaking to his heart and urging him onward.

Legolas lifted his gaze and followed the length of the bridge to its end. The distance was vast, testing the limits of his keen elven sight. Still, he thought he could see a dim, half mist-veiled figure waiting there, arms extended in welcome. Legolas smiled, relieved to see another, distant as he was, and lifted a foot to step upon the bridge.

"Stay, Las-nin!"

The prince halted. Frowning at the desperation in his father's voice, he turned, but found only mist. Legolas peered over his shoulder at the bridge. His father could not walk it with him. His heart whispered this with certainty, and he turned back toward the bridge.

"Stay, Las-nin! Do not yet depart! I am coming! Tarry a while longer! I am coming, Las-nin! Wait for me! I am coming!"

The prince halted again, wavering. The pull of waiting arms was strong. He would not long be able to resist, nor did he wish to. A yearning had sprung up in his heart, growing stronger with each beat. He needed to cross the bridge and enter into the welcoming embrace that awaited him.

"I am coming, Las-nin! Wait for me! I am coming! Do not yet depart! I am coming!"

Legolas forcibly turned his back to the bridge and dropped down to sit cross-legged upon the path. He could not refuse his father thus. He would do as Thranduil bid and tarry a while longer.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Baelorn eyed his suddenly agreeable father-in-law warily as they entered the town of Men, at least until the wafting scent of freshly baked bread reached his nose and triggered a rumbling growl from his long neglected stomach. His head turned of its own accord toward the nearby tavern from whence came the mouth-watering aroma. The king laughed – an unexpected sound that recaptured Baelorn's attention.

"Off with you," Thranduil bade, reaching for Baelorn's reins. "Tend to your stomach. I will see to the horses."

Baelorn hesitated. Their need for food and rest was plain, yet Thranduil's abrupt willingness to spare the time unnerved him.

"Go on," the King shooed. "Await me at the tavern."

Baelorn dismounted tentatively and relinquished his reins. Returning Thranduil's nod of farewell, he watched with a frown, as the King disappeared into the bustle. His father-in-law was up to something. Baelorn was certain of it.

_Better to ponder his mind over a meal,_ the elf decided, as the breeze again carried the scent of warm bread to his nose.

Baelorn's stomach, though, soon demanded his full attention. All pondering postponed, he sat himself upon a sun-warmed bench outside the tavern with a loaf and honey and a questionable flagon of wine. The bread disappeared quickly, though the wine did not, and he soon found himself relaxed against the tavern wall, pondering Thranduil's mood.

_He has been long in tending to the horses. Perhaps I should go in search of him._ But the thought slipped away as the warm sun on his face and his full stomach lulled him toward the sleep his over-weary body greatly desired.

_Well, he did bid me to await him here,_ he reminded himself, as he wandered into dreams.

"Baelorn!" Thranduil's hand grasping his shoulder prevented Baelorn from toppling off the bench as he started awake. The king smiled. "You have eaten well and rested, I see. Good! Let us be off at once."

Not yet fully freed of sleepy haze, Baelorn stared at him blankly for a brief second, before registering the two strange, fresh elven horses that stood nearby, attached to the reins held in the king's hand.

"Our horses…?"

"Will be well rested for the return journey," Thranduil finished, pulling Baelorn to his feet and prodding the elf toward one of the borrowed animals. "Now, we must make haste! Legolas tarries, but he will not do so long."

Baelorn's brow furrowed with bemusement as he mounted, but there was no opportunity for questions. No sooner had his foot touched the stirrup, than Thranduil was mounted and weaving his way through the bustle and out of the town. He kicked the beast into a run the moment his path was clear, and Baelorn was hard-pressed to stay within earshot of the king's renewed muttering.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

With most of the baggage securely stowed, Elladan gathered up the two bundles he'd set aside and turned back toward camp to retrieve his share of the blankets.

"Here, little brother," he offered, crouching beside Aragorn and passing the ranger a dry tunic and cloak. Raindrops hissed in dwindling fire beside him, provoking a scowl from the elf. "I fear they will not be dry long, but they will be warmer than naught, all the same."

Aragorn shrugged reluctantly out of the blankets wrapped snuggly around his shoulders. Pulling the dry tunic over his head, he hungrily eyed the remaining bundle in his brother's hands.

"It is indeed breakfast," Elladan confirmed, with an impudent grin. "You may as well fill your stomach while you sit warming yourself by the fire and watching us do all work."

Aragorn grinned sheepishly. Swiftly wrapping the dry cloak around his shoulders, he reached eagerly for the bundle.

"Bread and cheese…is that all?

Elladan laughed merrily as a childish pout planted itself upon the young man's face.

"We are less than a full day's ride from home, Estel. Be glad that we troubled to bring any food with us. Now, tuck in, or I will give your share to Legolas when he wakes."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Tension surged through Elrond's stalwart frame as he peered at the white ship before him. Instinct urged him to flee back into the safety of the waking world.

_But if it is a vision, not a dream, then I must see it through to its end if I am to understand its meaning,_ logic demanded, forcing him to stay, and Elrond's muscles quivered in complaint as reason and instinct battled for mastery. Soon, though, they trembled with trepidation as his gaze fell upon a familiar form standing upon the deck of the white ship.u

Elrond reflexively smiled as Elros grinned at him, but the expression faded quickly. A shiver of apprehension running along his spine, he twisted around to search for his children, determined that this time they would not be left standing on the shore. They were nowhere to be found, though, leaving Elrond uncertain. His stomach twisted anxiously, fearing he would find himself standing upon the white ship if he turned back. Yet reason reminded that he must turn back for the vision to proceed.

Elrond closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and warily turned. He opened them again tentatively and, finding the white ship before him, sighed in relief. Elros still stood upon the deck, a grin upon his face, but his attention was no longer focused on Elrond. His arms held wide in welcome, Elros faced the boarding ladder.

Foreboding surged through Elrond as he shifted his gaze and sought the boarder. He found Legolas, a step away from reaching for the bottom rung, and certainty washed through him that the prince would be forever lost to the Eldar if his fingers grasped the white wood. His stomach dropping, Elrond lurched forward to stop the wood-elf, but as before, he found his feet would not move.

"Nay, Legolas! Stay! Do not depart!"

OOOOOOOOOOOO

A hand of swirling mist shot out toward Legolas. Closing on the space vacated as he lurched back, the wispy fingers dissolved, but the main mass advanced, swallowing up the path Legolas had trodden. He struggled in vain to catch his quickening breath as the mist pressed in on him. There was a mounting tension within it - fear, perhaps…or anger. Legolas knew not, but it stole the air from his lungs.

He inched back. The mist quickly devoured the emptied space. Rising to his feet, Legolas peered over his shoulder. The bridge was still clear, but the swirling mass beneath it was rising, threatening to swallow it, as well. Soon, there would be no escape. He would be lost, alone in swirling nothingness!

Still, he fought the urge to spin on his heels and race across the bridge.

"I cannot! Ada bid me wait for him. I must linger. I must!"

His resolve faltered, though, even as he spoke the words aloud, and his feet inched backward.

"Ada is coming! I must wait for him! I must wait!" he gasped, in a breathless whisper, as his heart sped faster and faster until his lungs could no longer keep pace. Finally unable to loose the breath caught in his throat, Legolas woke with a violent start.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

His feet suddenly free, Elrond fell forward and landed, sprawled on hands and knees, before the bench he'd been resting on in the Hall of Fire. He pushed himself up with a soft groan and sat back on his heels to stare into the gentle flames.

"Have you injured yourself?" came a soft inquiry from the doorway, and Elrond turned to see Glorfindel watching him, his blue-grey eyes large with worry. Elrond smiled distractedly and eased himself back onto the bench.

"Nay, I have not," he assured, inviting the elf lord to join him.

Glorfindel lingered a moment longer in the entrance and studied his friend, before strolling over. He didn't take his place upon the bench, though. He was filled with too much anxious energy to sit still.

"Another vision?" he queried, though he was already certain of the answer.

"Indeed, but I little know what to make of it," Elrond confirmed, wearily. "Ai, my friend…."

"Nay, do not lose heart, son of Eärendil," Glorfindel soothed. He laid a comforting hand upon his friend's shoulder. "There is still hope the young ones will return to us unscathed."

Elrond heard something odd his friend's tone and quirked an eyebrow at him. Glorfindel chuckled lightly.

"Indeed, my friend, I have thought to come to the aid of hope and ride out in search of our lost ones," the elf lord announced, before bowing his head, demurely. "By your leave, of course."

Elrond smiled wryly and nodded his consent.

Glorfindel grinned reassuringly and gave his friend's shoulder a final pat, before excusing himself. He paused a moment as he reached the doorway. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned cheekily. "Fear not! The whole lot of us will be mucking mud through your halls, bellowing for food and wine and warm baths before you know it."

Elrond chuckled as he watched the golden-haired lord disappear out the door, but then his expression dimmed.

_Yet another wanderer to worry over… _He sighed deeply. Turning back to stare morosely into the fire, he bade, _May it be the will of the Valar that you bring them home safe and whole, but do not forget to return safe and whole yourself, my friend._

OOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOO

His breath freed by the sudden jolt, Legolas's lungs greedily sucked in fresh air. He closed his eyed and focused on his surroundings, hoping to slow his breathing and calm his heart. Not far away, soft voices hummed. Overhead, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Rain pattered softly on the ground beside him. The sounds seemed surreal after the smothering nothingness of his dreams.

_Perhaps this is the dream, and I'll wake to naught but mist_, Legolas mused, sending an apprehensive tickle shuddering through him. His breath beginning again to quicken, he prised open heavy, reluctant eyes. They found bright leaves of spring dancing overhead in the pale light of a cloudy dawn. Legolas smiled wanly in relief.

"We are less than a full day's ride from home, Estel. Be glad that we troubled to bring any food with us. Now, tuck in, or I'll give your share to Legolas when he wakes," came Elladan's merry voice, wafting on the morning breeze.

Laughter from both twins signaled that Aragorn had made a face, and Legolas grinned. He turned his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of it, but his eyes met only the mass of blankets enveloping him. He rose onto his elbows and hissed under his breath as his shoulder abruptly reminded him of its previous dislocation.

"Easy there," Elrohir chided, slipping an arm beneath the wood-elf's back and easing out him of his nest. Settling the prince against the fallen log, the twin's hand lingered until he was certain Legolas was steady. "It does my heart good to see a smile upon your face, my friend."

"A good night's rest goes far in reviving the spirit," Legolas replied breathlessly.

"Indeed, you are looking much improved," lied the twin.

His voice was light and cheery and his expression bright, but Legolas didn't miss the apprehension in his eyes. They were but a few hours from Imladris, yet Elrohir feared he would not last so far. Legolas closed his eyes and gathered himself. Opening them again, he grinned wryly and nodded his head toward a bundle in the twin's hands.

"I see I will not have to steal Estel's portion, after all."

Elrohir chuckled, "Indeed, little one, you shall not, but first…"

He offered a clean tunic, which Legolas gladly accepted. The wood-elf's arms protested, though, as he attempted to pull it over his head. Letting them drop weakly back into the blanket, he frowned at the twin. Elrohir smiled sympathetically and slipped the tunic out of Legolas's fingers. Biting his lip more from wounded pride than stiffness, he allowed the twin to help him dress. Elrohir backed away once he had pulled the tunic over the prince's head, leaving Legolas to finish on his own.

"My thanks to you," the prince murmured, once he was comfortably settled again. The twin bobbed his head in acknowledgment, before handing over the bread and cheese. Wearied from the effort of dressing, Legolas offered only a weak smile in exchange and set to, tearing off a piece of bread and nibbling half-heartedly.

Elrohir watched for a moment, and then turned to gather up Legolas's nest. His gaze wandered back often as he rolled up the blankets, and slowly a grin spread across his face. The rain that had peppered the rest of their small camp was only now finding its way onto the prince's bed, and not a drop had yet landed upon Legolas himself. Elrohir turned his head and gazed into the branches overhead, seeking to confirm a sudden suspicion. His smile widened. The leaves were twisting this way and that, deflecting every drop away from 'their' beloved wood-elf.

Rising to add the blanket rolls to the luggage, Elrohir strolled over to his twin and whispered, "I will ride with Legolas."

Hearing something odd – almost mischievous - in his brother's voice, Elladan quirked a brow. But as Elrohir quickly schooled his features into the gravest of expression; his twin nodded, silently chiding himself for his suspicion.

_Please, Mandos, do not claim him while he's in my brother's arms,_ Elladan prayed, as Elrohir moved off.

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~

Thranduil's mantra faded as the grasslands gave way to scattered birches and pines. Some small portion of his weary, preoccupied brain registered the significance.

'…the mountains draw near…not much farther now, my Leaf…nearly there…'

Thranduil's heart reached out for Legolas. Surely now he was close enough to again feel his son's light within him! The Elvenking nearly wailed in despair when he found naught but the emptiness that had become so sickening familiar.

_Nay! Nay, it cannot be!_ His mind screamed. I _am so close now…so very close…._

Thranduil's grip tightened upon the reins as his fear and frustration escalated. He had been certain, despite his earlier despair, that he would feel Legolas once the distance separating them had closed somewhat. With desperate determination, Thranduil focused his spirit and drove heart and mind up into the mountains and over to the halls of Imladris, but to no avail.

_He is there! He waits for me! I am certain of it!_ Some one – some presence both familiar and alien – whispered it on the wind in a voice that his soul trusted wholly. The king closed his eyes as swelling waves of perplexity pounded against his skull. _How can I know this when I cannot feel him…?_

Yet he did know, absolutely.

"Legolas is there. He heeds his ada; he waits for you, but he will not tarry long…,'' the voice on the wind whispered with conviction.

Opening his eyes, Thranduil prodded his horse to move faster.

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~

Legolas's chest grew tight as the mist pressed in from three directions. Only to his rear – only upon the bridge - did the path remain clear. Instinctively, his left foot stepped back toward safety; the other lifted to follow…but it was set back down again in place.

_Nay! I must wait for Ada! I must!_ Legolas ground out through gritted teeth.

The mist heeded him not. It seemed it was not content in swallowing wholly the path he had trodden, but was bent upon consuming him, as well. Legolas struggled to control his surging panic.

_You must not let fear be your master! Calm yourself; think_! He commanded, and obediently his mind latched upon a hopeful thought. _The path was veiled before, was it not? Yet it was there all along, beneath my feet. I had only to tread upon it…_

He forced an unwilling foot forward, and a fresh jolt of panic shot through him, stopping his breath and nearly his heart. The path did not appear, and the mist did not retreat. Instead it pressed against him with a force that belied its ethereal appearance.

Legolas gasped; intent upon drawing in air that would not come. His knees gave way beneath him and hit the ground with a thud that freed his breath. He barely spared the moment for a first gasp before attempting to push himself back to his feet. But even as his hands touched the ground, tendrils of mist slithered out of the ravine and wrapped around his limbs. Terror overrode all thought, and Legolas thrashed wildly against his captor. His heart pounded against his chest as though it might burst free. His breath came in frantic gasps. His mind began a spinning descent into darkness…and then, abruptly, the vine released him and the mist dissolved back into intangible wisps of nothingness.

Collapsing onto his hands, Legolas rested while his lungs eagerly refilled themselves. Then, tentatively, he rose unsteadily to his feet. The mist remained as it was. He inched a cautious foot forward, but the mist promptly thickened. New tendrils sprang up from the ravine and danced around his ankles as if in warning.

_You have made your point,_ Legolas snarled, frustration giving way to anger and briefly conquering fear. He pulled his foot back, petulantly, and slid it instead behind him, toward the bridge. The tendrils retreated, but the wall of mist remained solid. He inched back with the other foot, and the ground immediately around him cleared. Glancing down, Legolas sought the path and realized that he had stepped upon the bridge…and anger melted into dismay.

Wailing in despair, he tried to step off again, but vines of mist slithered up from beneath the bridge. Legolas struggled against them as they coiled about his ankles, but they were stalwart, and he was spent. His strength giving out, Legolas dropped and curled in on himself, tears of frustration rolling down his cheeks.

"Nay! I will not go!" he cried out in defiance, yet there was an edge of despondency.

_Be at ease, young one. You struggle for naught. There is no enemy here; there is nothing to fear,_ soothed a now familiar voice. _But you cannot linger here._

"Nay!" Legolas answered Elros beseechingly. "I must wait for Ada!"

_Your Adar cannot accompany you on this journey, young one. You must walk the path alone, but you need not remain alone. I am waiting for you, and here you shall find peace; you need only seek it. You need only continue the journey._

Legolas's heart whispered that there was truth in the words. Behind him, peace radiated from the bridge, and in his mind's eye he could still see the partially shrouded form that stood with arms outstretched in welcome. The pull of those arms was strong, increasing with each beat of his heart. He needed to cross the bridge, to be enveloped in the comfort that awaited him…and yet there was something ominous and alarming in the desperation of that very yearning.

Then there was the mist. It veiled something – something that was afraid or angry. He knew not which, but the feeling loomed over him like a malevolent shadow that warned him not to trust in the peace Elros promised.

"Nay! I will not listen," Legolas cried, sitting up and shaking his head mulishly. "You are naught but a phantom of darkness that seeks to deceive me! I will not heed your words. I will attend ada! I will wait for him!"

His defiance was met only with silence, yet even that had a menacing feel to it. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Legolas buried his head in his arms as though they might shield him from it.

"Must wait...must wait…," he murmured, rocking back and forth fretfully.

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~

The song Elrohir had been singing ceased abruptly as Legolas's chest stilled. The twin's heart lurched.

"Legolas, mellon nín, wake!" he implored, patting the Wood-elf's face. Getting no response, Elrohir jerked his reins and dismounted with Legolas, but too hastily. Losing his balance, he fell forward onto his knee, hitting the ground with a soft thud…and Legolas gasped.

Elrohir sat back on his heels, clinging tightly to his friend. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, he buried his face in the wood-elf's golden hair and tried to regain his composure. His head flew up again promptly though as a flailing arm slammed into it. Momentarily stunned by the blow, the twin's grip upon the prince loosened as Legolas began to thrash wildly, but Elrohir quickly shook away the spots that danced before his eyes. Dodging a second blow, he unfolded his legs and scrambled to get his friend's limbs pinned before Legolas did any real damage to either of them. Before his could manage it though, Legolas abruptly stilled.

His heart pounding both from exertion and alarm, Elrohir apprehensively watched the wood-elf suck in deep, frantic breaths of air. An expression of defiance flitted across Legolas's face. Thinking it a response to his awkward hold, Elrohir loosed it, but his friend's expression did not relax. It dropped instead into despair. A moment later, the thrashing began anew. Weaker this time, the struggle soon ceased.

Curling in on himself, the prince cried out in despair, sending tears of helpless frustration rolling down Elrohir's cheeks. He gathered Legolas in his arms and, rocking slightly, murmured softly, but insistently, for the prince to wake. His voice, though, seemed only to increase his friend's distress.

"Nay! I will not go!" Legolas cried out, tears spilling from his tightly sealed eyes.

"Shh, be at ease, little one. You are safe; no harm shall befall you. I swear it," Elrohir soothed, petting the golden head. Brow knit in concentration, he closed his eyes and searched for some shadow of a threat to which Legolas's was reacting. Yet, he felt nothing – unless it was… Elrohir's puzzlement grew, for there was a presence around them, but it was not a malevolent one, but benevolent – as though Elbereth herself had wrapped them in her arms.

The soft nickering of a horse sounded nearby, and he looked up to find his brothers' worried faces staring down upon them. Elrohir raised a hand and waved away the question in their eyes, before gathering Legolas more securely so that they could rise. Glancing up again, he said simply, "We cannot linger here."

"Nay! I must wait for Ada!" Legolas beseeched, shifting fretfully as Elrohir started to rise and forcing the twin back onto his heels.

"Ada?" Elrohir mouthed, sharing a puzzled gaze with his brothers, before responding aloud, "We need not wait for your ada, little one. He did not accompany us; he is not near. But you are not alone, and our ada waits for you at the journey's end. Be at peace. We must continue the journey, but it is not far now."

Legolas's agitation intensified, until it was all Elrohir could do to keep hold of him. Beside him, Elladan stilled Aragorn as he moved to dismount, and then jumped down to lend his twin a hand.

"Nay!" Legolas cried, shaking his head defiantly and increasing his struggle. "I will wait for him!"

"Legolas! Your ada is not here!" Elladan argued, but the prince remained locked in sleep and did not heed.

Joining his brothers, Aragorn took his friend's face in his hands and shouted, "Legolas, wake!"

"Must wait…must wait…," Legolas murmured, as he tried vainly to loose the ranger's hold. Then, abruptly, he woke.

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~

_You must let him go, Thranduil,_ the wind whispered. Its soft, melodious voice was one that Thranduil knew he should recognize, but he had not the thought to spare to search out the memory. His heart labeled it the voice of a friend, and that would have been enough but for the words it spoke.

_Nay!_ His mind bellowed in reply. _I will not let him go!_

_You must. You cannot stay his journey,_ the wind returned gently.

_Why can I not? _Thranduil demanded. _He is my son!_

_He journeys along a path from which he cannot be turned_, came a soft reply, but the king would have none of it.

_Then I shall journey with him,_ he steadfastly proclaimed.

_Nay, it cannot be, Thranduil. It is not your path; you cannot travel it,'_ the wind answered patiently.

_It will not be! _The king retorted. _He shall not tread where I cannot follow. I will not allow it!_

_You must!_ The wind insisted_. He has already stepped upon the path. He cannot depart from it. You must let him go!_

_Nay!_ Thranduil cried in anguish_. I cannot! You must not ask this of me! He is my heart! I cannot let him go!_

_You must, Thranduil, _the wind persisted_. He cannot depart from the path, yet he will not see it to its end without your leave, and he will remain, there standing lost and alone forever. Nay, Thranduil, you must let him go! You must let him follow the path to its end where he may find peace._

The king's eyes filled with tears of anguish. _But where is he going that I cannot follow?_

The wind fell silent.

_Will he return to me? _Thranduil begged to know, beginning to tremble with desperation and despair. _May he not journey on to Mandos, at least, where I may someday see him again?_

Not so much as a leaf stirred in the answering breeze.

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~

Leading his horse carefully over a wide patch of loose stones that had tumbled across their path, Baelorn had little attention to spare for aught else. Yet as his ears caught the sound of shifting rock behind him, the significance registered at once. Thranduil had fallen! Eyes wide with alarm, Baelorn swung round to find his father-in-law struggling to regain his footing.

"Adar!" he cried out in concern.

The king took no apparent notice, but continued attempting to rise. The slippery stone seemed intent, though, upon baffling the distraught elf. No sooner did he find his feet then the rocks shifted beneath him, and he fell hard again, the pebbles tearing into hands and knees. Thranduil tried once more to rise, but then sunk resignedly to the ground.

"Adar," Baelorn repeated tenderly, kneeling gingerly beside the king. When Thranduil did not acknowledge him, he placed a gently hand beneath his king's chin. Tilting Thranduil's head upward, Baelorn saw at once the reason behind the king's trouble. Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision, and he trembled as though he might shatter beneath his son-in-law's touch.

"He waits. He waits…because I bid it…because he would not go without my leave…but he cannot stay…he cannot…he will go…he will go, and I cannot follow," the king choked, as Baelorn thumbed away the tears that were trickling down his cheeks.

"Nay. It is not so," Baelorn soothed. Releasing the king's chin, he took Thranduil's hands and inspected the damage. "Where could he go that you could not follow? There is not such a place. Nay. We will find him. We will bring him home. All will be well."

Thranduil shook head vehemently. "Nay! It is not so! Did you not hear?"

"Hear what, Adar?" Baelorn asked in a falsely calm voice as he washed away the blood. He had heard naught but the wind in the trees.

"Her voice on the wind! Cannot you hear it? The words are clear! I cannot keep him. He will go! He will go; I cannot follow…he is lost. My Leaf is lost…."

"Nay! He is not lost! It cannot be so. We will not let it!" Baelorn assured, pulling his king into a fierce hug. Within his heart, though, he did not believe his own words.

Panic flickered in Legolas's eyes as they opened abruptly. Fearing too many hovering faces would only add to it, Aragorn released his hold on the wood-elf and took a hasty step backward. Legolas's eyes, still bleary with the fog of sleep, cast about blindly before coming to rest upon Elladan's face.

"Ai, Elros! Nay!" he wailed, weakly pushing the twin away. "I must wait for Ada! Please! I cannot cross yet!"

"Peace, Legolas. I am not Elros, but Elladan," the twin soothed. Retreating slightly, he glanced bemusedly at his brothers and mouthed, _Elros?_

"Indeed, he is Elladan, and I, Elrohir, and you have naught to fear from us, little one," Elrohir assured the elf in his arms. His gaze, though, fixed upon his twin and his expression puckered apprehensively as a pensive shadow darkened Elladan's features. It was the ghost of a thought that Elrohir had come to know well, for it haunted his twin's eyes with increasing frequency of late.

Legolas's eyes flew toward the sound of Elrohir's voice and scrutinized its owner tensely. They then turned back upon Elladan and stared hard at the elder twin before Legolas relaxed.

The grim inspection garnered a bemused quirk of the brow from Elladan that chased the shadow from his features. Smirking amusedly, he raised his eyes to his twin's. The question in them was clear. What would bring the name of Elros to the wood-elf's lips? And why would Legolas fear him?

Elrohir simply shrugged in reply and shifted his troubled gaze to Legolas.

"Elladan… Yes, of course, it is Elladan…and Elrohir," the prince sighed, one corner of his mouth turning up in listless attempt at smile as his eyelids drooped wearily.

_Nay! I will not sleep again. I will not cross. Not yet!_ Forcing his eyelids to rise, Legolas studied the leaves dancing overhead while his mind shook off the last vestiges of mist.

Elladan's gaze followed his friend's, and he watched transfixed as the rustling leaves whispered a tranquil song. A brief smile tugged the twin's lips, but it soon faded and his brow screwed up inquiringly. Legolas abruptly drew Elladan's attention away, though, before his mind could fully comprehend what his eyes had seen.

"What has happened?" Legolas asked, at last alert enough to realize that he was being held. Frowning uneasily, he pushed away from Elrohir and awkwardly attempted to rise.

"Nothing has happened. Well, nothing of significance. You chose an inopportune time for an ill dream, that is all," Aragorn answered, stepping hastily forward to offer his friend a hand up. Rising with Legolas, the twins each kept a steadying hold upon him.

A fleeting look of puzzlement passed over Legolas's face, but he let the statement go and instead closed his eyes and drew in a steadying breath. Opening them again, he remarked, "We should continue on."

Aragorn pursed his lips skeptically, as the wood-elf moved unsteadily toward Elrohir's horse.

"There is little value in pausing to rest so near our destination when all shall rest more comfortably upon reaching it," Elrohir observed, with a resigned shrug, as Legolas leaned weakly against the horse.

Aragorn's frown deepened, but he said nothing. Nodding tersely, he strode over to help his friend mount. The ranger's expression shifted to one of wide-eyed benevolence, though, as he lifted the prince into his arms as though he were naught but an elfling and plopped him unceremoniously onto the horse.

The prince glowered in appreciation as Aragorn strode to his own horse. He quickly schooled the expression into one of passivity; the ranger glanced in his direction before mounting, earning a light chuckle from Elrohir as he mounted behind his friend.

Aragorn quirked a quizzical eyebrow at the soft sound, but the twin did not notice. He was again studying his brother, who stood yet where Legolas had left him. With head cocked inquisitively, Elladan was again staring up into the rustling leaves. Promptly, though, dawning realization replaced benign curiosity in the elder twin's eyes, and Elrohir quickly urged his horse forward, out of arm's reach of his brother.

"You little imp!" He heard Elladan hiss and peeked over his shoulder, grinning wickedly. The elder twin scowled in reply, before continuing in indignation, "You knew what the trees were up to all this the time, didn't you? And nary a word about it!"

"About what?" Aragorn inquired innocently, as he drew the horse up alongside Elladan.

"That!" Elladan growled and pointed up to the shifting leaves.

"What?" the ranger questioned, looking up with a perplexed frown upon his face.

"That! That!" the elder twin repeated hotly and jabbed his finger upward with greater emphasis. Aragorn stared into the leaves a moment longer, but then shrugged bemusedly and turned his attention toward steadying the horse as Elladan mounted behind him. The source of the twin's irritation soon made itself known, though, as Elrohir and Legolas grew distant, and the leaves let fall the rain they had been dutifully keeping at bay.

"Still they love him best…round ears and all," Elladan grumbled under his breath, and Aragorn laughed heartily as comprehension struck him as abruptly as the drops now splattered all about them. The elder twin's scowl deepened at the sound, but the ranger only chortled louder, until finally Elladan's expression lightened and he, too, began to laugh merrily.

"Let us catch up to them," he suggested, growing suddenly serious, but with an underlying tone that made Aragorn twist around to gaze dubiously at him. Elladan smirked roguishly in reply as he added, "For then the remainder of our journey will be dry as well."

Grinning broadly and tightening his grip, Aragorn nodded in agreement.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Elrond glared malevolently at the bright and cheerful flowers about his feet as he strolled through his garden awaiting the return of the wanderers. The flowers merely lifted their heads higher and whispered chidingly that they were hardly to blame for his impatience. Elrond scowled at this, but then sighed apologetically and shifted his gaze to glower instead at the distant path that led across the bridge, which earned the gay laughter of his blossoms.

_It is not the fault of the path, either, that they have not appeared upon it,_ their melodious voices admonished merrily. When Elrond heeded them not, the flowers began a soothing song of splendor and tranquility, until finally he relented and turned to sit amidst the cheery blossoms.

He tried in earnest to let the song ease his weary soul, but all too soon, the melody faded into eerie silence. Tension straining his muscles, Elrond regained his feet and peered with trepidation into the mist rolling in to blanket all in smothering stillness.

"Nay!" he beseeched. "No more!"

But the vision did not relent, and Elrond found himself looking once again upon the white ship.

"I do not understand what I am to see…what I am to do!" he cried in frustration, as the expected form of his brother appeared upon the deck. Elros' face was grim, his eyes disappointed.

"What do you want of me?" Elrond bellowed angrily up at him. His brother looked away. Elrond's gaze followed until it met with Legolas. His stomach dropped, for he knew even as he lurched forward to seize the wood-elf that he could not reach him. "I do not understand! Why do you beckon him? What interest could you have in an elf… in Legolas?"

Elros briefly returned his attention to Elrond. Tilting his head bemusedly, he stared at his brother as if he did not comprehend why Elrond did not understand.

_What do you not understand, my brother? It has all been shown to you;_ he finally replied and turned to Legolas.

His words did little to appease Elrond. Choking down a frustrated growl, he snarled, "What have I been shown? There is no sense to be made of these dreams! First you stand upon the deck, and then it is I, and you stand upon the shore with my children at your side, but then you stand again upon the deck, and it is not my children, but Legolas who goes to stand at your side. What has Legolas to do with you? Why do you beckon him? What am I to understand?"

But Elros gave no indication that he heard. His gaze did not waver from Legolas as his arms opened wide in welcome.

"Nay! Whatever your intentions, he will not go with you. I will not allow it! "

_You must,_ answered a firm, but gentle voice from behind.

Swinging around, Elrond found he stood once more within a garden…but it was not his. The colors were more vivid than he could ever have imagined – as if they had only that moment been created just for his eyes to see. The scents…oh! The sweet scents upon the air were wondrously varied, yet each as fresh as a perfect summer morning.

Elrond closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, almost forgetting his panic of a moment before as his soul soaked in the tranquility all around him. He heard the sound of the gentle voice again, and his eyes flew open.

"I will not!" he countered belatedly, glowering defiantly at the figure standing serenely beneath the gently swaying branches of a silver willow. _Melian?_

The figure smile slightly, as though in answer to the unspoken question, but her face grew stern and she firmly but gently insisted, _you must. He must go, and you must let him._

"Why must he go? Where must he go?" Elrond pressed, but was answered only with silence. He glared at Melian, wordlessly demanding an answer, which seemed to amuse the Maia, for a smile lit her eyes, but still he did not speak.

"I will not let him go!" Elrond finally stated simply and resolutely.

_He will go, all the same,_ Melian sighed, _for he journeys along a path from which he cannot be turned. Yet where there should be peace, there is fear and despair. You must let him go, Elrond_.

Elrond's fists clenched as he battled with indecision. His mind screamed at him not to relent, not to let go, and his heart longed to obey his mind and refuse – for both mind and heart warned that the path would not lead the prince back home again, that he would be lost forever. Yet his heart whispered that he must give Legolas leave to go, must allow him to enter the peace Melian promised, for how could he do otherwise? He could not condemn the prince to fear and despair. He could not save him. He must let him go!

Elrond crumpled into a heap amidst the vibrant flowers as his heart won the day and his mind consented to the choice.

_All will be well, peredhil. Be at peace,_ the gentle voice whispered, and a wave of serenity washed over Elrond, soothing away the grief and weariness within his soul. Filled with new strength, he rose and looked toward the voice, but found himself again standing amidst the familiar blooms of his own humble garden.

OOOOOOOOOOOO


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Rest, Legolas," Elrohir urged, as the prince's head lolled against his shoulder, yet his body remained tense as a bowstring. "You are safe. We will not let any harm befall you."

"Nay," Legolas responded in a weary murmur. "I do not wish to rest. Not yet. I will not go. I am not ready; Ada has not come. I cannot rest yet. I will not. I will not cross yet."

"Ssh," the twin soothed, despite the fear clutching at his heart. "There is naught to fear. You are safe."

Legolas found no comfort in his words, though. He could feel the mist pressing in upon the edges of waking mind, seeking an opening; the briefest of moments, was all it would need, and it would claim him. He would not escape again. He had not the strength left to turn back, to resist the call of those waiting arm, of the peace they promised him.

Soon, too soon, it would be beyond his control, but not yet… not yet! _No, I will not sleep yet! I will not go! I will wait for ada!_

Elrohir swallowed back the apprehension rising up his throat as he felt Legolas's body grow increasingly taut. _He is afraid…but of what?_

He closed his eyes, searching once more for some fell shadow that would provide an answer to his question, but as before, he felt naught of an evil presence. Stymied, Elrohir turned instead to the words Legolas continued to murmur weakly. _He will not go? He is not ready? He will not cross? Go where? Ready for what?_

But even as he finished the thought, Elrohir guessed the answer. His eyes opening wide with panic, he pulled the prince tighter against him as though he might somehow stay Legolas's soul should it decide to flee without the wood-elf's leave.

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~

Baelorn's eyes slid surreptitiously toward Thranduil as he finished checking the horses' hooves for lodged pebbles. The king remained exactly as he had been set after his son-in-law had all but carried him the remaining distance over the rockslide. One skinned hand still clutched the bread Baelorn had placed in it. The other held tightly to a water skin, which sat just as Baelorn had set it before placing the king's hand atop it. Clearly, neither had yet met the king's lips, as had been the hope.

The king's eyes, fixed upon nothing in particular, were only partially open and glistened still with recent tears. Baelorn could not tell from his vantage point if they were also glazed with sleep or only lost in thought. He prayed it was the former, for Thranduil's mind needed rest. It did not need contemplation. An apprehensive fist clenched in Baelorn's stomach as he considered where the king's thoughts might lead his spirit if the words on the wind had truly shattered his hope.

_Nay, he has contemplated and speculated too much already!_ Baelorn resolved and moved cautiously toward his father-in-law. He would not wake Thranduil if he slumbered, though the king would not be pleased to have precious time squandered in sleep. Baelorn would happily endure Thranduil's ire, but he would not allow the king to wallow in thought. _Better that he stay focused on the journey…_

"Our people will not lose their king to the call of West; you need not fear it."

Baelorn started at the unexpected sound of Thranduil's eerily calm voice. Hastily composing himself as the king turned an abrupt look up at him, he answered, "I cannot help but fear it if Legolas is…if he has…if…."

"If his soul had fled Middle-earth, and we must return home with naught but an empty shell for burial?" the king finished for him. Baelorn nodded uncertainly, dropping his eyes to escape Thranduil's unnervingly steady gaze.

"He is not all that holds me here," the king asserted. "Mirkwood our forest is now named, yet still it claims a share of my heart - and our people, also. Think you I would abandon them lightly?"

Baelorn's eyes rose at this, but Thranduil continued before he could speak.

"And my daughter and grandson," the king listed; as he tossed away the bread, set aside the water skin, rose to his feet, and stood before Baelorn. His gaze never wavering, Thranduil gripped his son-in-law's shoulder. "And you, ion-nîn, each hold a piece of my heart.

"And you, a piece of mine, Adar," Baelorn softly declared and clasp Thranduil's forearm. "And yet…"

"And yet, you fear the portion that Legolas carries with him is greater than all the rest…that my heart will shatter with its loss," the king ventured to guess. Though Baelorn spoke no words of affirmation, Thranduil saw the answer in his eyes. Dropping his arm, he turned toward Imladris and deliberated a moment, before murmuring, "Indeed, it was a large share my Leaf claimed with his first breath…"

Thranduil's words fell away as his voice cracked, and Baelorn squeezed his shoulder supportively. The king rested a hand atop his son-in-law's and then, gathering himself with a deep breath, spoke again.

"He almost never was, you know?"

"Oh?" Baelorn replied, and smiled indulgently. He knew, of course, for the Queen had oft teased Thranduil with the tale during Legolas's first years, when the king could scarce be separated from the child he had so long resisted begetting.

"I did not want another child, not with the loss of my son and father, and so very many of our people still so near. My heart was too full of grief; there was no room in it for another child…that was what I thought." A slight smile touched the king's lips as his thoughts drifted in memory. "My love persisted, though. New hope - that was what the elves of the Wood needed, she argued. And a new life to herald it as surely as the first green leaves of spring herald the promise of a new year."

"But many a child had already been born, an heir for their king among them," Baelorn observed, dutifully playing his well-rehearsed part in the narration.

"Indeed, a fine heir," Thranduil confirmed, turning his head enough to grace his son-in-law with an affectionate smile. "And a symbol, as was every child, that hope remained in the hearts' of our people…but she argued it was not enough. They needed to know that their king's heart also held hope for the future."

"But did it?" Baelorn asked.

Thranduil fell silent. Gazing again toward Imladris, he took a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh.

"It did, though I was not certain of it until his first breath…" he stated, as he strode forward purposely and retrieved the discarded water skin. Turning again to face Baelorn, Thranduil added, vehemently, "And hope will continue to dwell within it even upon his last."

The certainty of the declaration struck Baelorn with enough force to send him reeling. Backing into a horse, he gripped its mane to steady himself as he swallowed hard against the tightening fist in his stomach. It was not enough, though, to prepare him for the king's next words.

"But it would matter little if all hoped faded from it, for where would it flee? No peace awaits it in Aman; Legolas's path leads not there. He journeys where I cannot follow," Thranduil stated matter-of-factly, as he moved steadily to his horse. Gripping its mane firmly, he paused before mounting. "One son is there, and his mother, also. Perhaps Mandos has released them, and they wait to greet me, but never will my elder son know more of his brother than what tales can say, and what can they say? That he laughed? But what of the sound of that laughter? Or the warmth of his smile? Or the light in his eyes? No, no peace will I find in Aman."

A look of grim defiance settling upon his face, Thranduil mounted his horse and, without glancing to see if Baelorn followed, prodded the beast into motion. But after a few steps, he murmured almost too quietly for Baelorn to hear, a hysterical edge creeping back into his voice, "Nay, my peace will be found here…beneath the trees that know the sound of his laughter and the stones that know the soft touch of his feet as he trod its halls… I must let him go, she whispers, and so I must, but not his memory. Nay! I will not go to Aman and let go of his memory!"

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~

Elladan's brow knit with worry as Elrohir tightened his hold on Legolas. Hastily drawing up alongside the pair, his gaze met eyes wide with alarm and fell at once to the prince. Elladan found though nothing new amiss with his friend. Perplexed, he flicked his gaze back up to Elrohir.

"What trou…," the question fell away, as the beat of a horse's hooves sounded in the distance. Halting their steeds simultaneously, Elladan and Elrohir passed an apprehensive glance between them. But even as Aragorn gripped his knife handle, the twins grinned broadly with relief.

Legolas's head lifted from Elrohir's shoulder as he felt the sudden shift in tension. It fell back again as the approaching rider drew near enough for round ears to hear the soft tinkle of bells. Legolas swallowed hard against the fresh wave of anxiety rising up his throat in anticipation of the elf lord's first glimpse of him, but he reminded himself consolingly, _We would have met soon enough in any case._

"Hail and well met, sons of Elrond, son of Thranduil," Glorfindel bid cheerily, greeting the party with a warm smile. It melted swiftly away, though, as he noted the limp form in Elrohir's arms.

"Hail, Glorfindel. What brings you out on such a rainy day as this?" Elladan replied courteously, but the elf lord seemed not to hear.

Nudging Asfaloth up alongside Elrohir's mount, Glorfindel gently smoothed back Legolas's disheveled hair and tucked the loose locks thoughtfully behind a round ear, before responding absently, "A misplaced gift."

At the feel of the soft caress, Legolas opened his eyes reluctantly and met the elf lord's concerned gaze, while the twins and Aragorn shared a bewildered look between them.

"A misplaced gift?" Aragorn parroted.

"Indeed," Glorfindel confirmed thoughtfully, but his gaze did not lift from Legolas. "It is good to see you, elfling, though I had hoped to find you whole and hale. Still, however we may have you will do for now."

Legolas gazed with wonder at the lack of surprise in Glorfindel's voice and face, earning a compassionate gaze and paternal smile from the elf lord.

Gently cupping the wood-elf's cheek, he whispered, "Fear not, young one. We will find a way to set this right again."

Covering Glorfindel's hand with his own, Legolas smiled faintly, yet the despair in his weary eyes did not lesson. _Nay, my friend, you are too late,_ they whispered to the elf lord. _The gift has been given. It cannot be undone._

_This will be made well, I swear it!_ Glorfindel's eyes replied, but Legolas merely sighed softly and turned his head away. Swallowing down his own sigh, Glorfindel glanced up to find three pairs of bemused eyes fixed upon him.

"You know perfectly well that I am far too old now to be so easily taken aback," he teased, with a puckish grin that did not reach his eyes and not one of the three expressions lightened. Elladan, in fact, deepened his frown and his eyes narrowed with suspicion as he continued to study the ancient elf.

Elrohir, too, scrutinized the elf lord, but he then turned his attention back to Legolas. His eyes met his brother's briefly, though, before shifting downward, and the thought passed between them that it was not age that had prepared Glorfindel for the sight of Legolas's round ears. Nor was it happenstance that he journeyed along their path.

"Glorfindel, what do you know that you do not say?" Aragorn growled, picking up on the twins' sudden wariness.

"Ai, child! All that I know but do not say would take more than your lifetime to tell," Glorfindel replied, with a forced grin, before pensively adding. "But of this…"

The elf lord ran his fingers lightly over Legolas's ear and then abruptly turned Asfaloth back toward the valley. "Come; let us get this one home so that Elrond may see he has not melted in the rain."

OOOOOOOOOOOO*~

_Thranduil_, the breeze whispered in the king's ear. Clenching his fists angrily, he ducked his head into the withers seeking to escape it, but the soft voice found its way to his ears, all the same. _Hear me, son of Oropher! Do not let needless grief stop your ears…_

_Ai! What more would you demand of me_? Thranduil hissed angrily. _Have you not taken enough?_

_Nay, Thranduil,_ the breeze answered. _Set aside your anger, for it is misplaced. I have taken naught, yet comfort I could give to you if only you would receive it._

_What comfort have you to offer_? The king spat in reply. _Can you give me my son? For that is all the comfort that I seek, and in naught else may it found._

The breeze sighed mournfully through the rocks, before answering, _I bid you let him go so that he might have peace, do not then deny yourself the same._

Lifting his head defiantly, Thranduil sneered, _Needless is my grief, you say. Well, cold is your comfort, I say. My ears are stopped. Hide yourself again in your garden; I will hear your words no longer!_

_Your ears may be stopped, but your heart is not. When you are ready, it knows where to seek the comfort I offer; _the breeze whispered and then softly caressed his face before fading away.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Elrohir's heartbeat quickened as the faint sound of Elvish singing reached his ears. Tensing in anticipation, he closed his eyes and reached out, seeking the comfort of his father.

_I am here. All will be made well,' _his father's calm spirit whispered in reply, and the twin shivered with glad relief. Before him, Legolas shuddered also, as a familiar shadow mingled with Elrohir's essence. It was a presence he had come to know well these last days.

_Nay! You will not claim me!_ His mind bellowed at the memory of the hand of swirling mist reaching out to snare him, and the mounting tension that accompanied it – the fear and the anger – pressing in closer and closer, stealing the air from his lungs.

"Nearly there," Elrohir whispered reassuringly as Legolas shuddered. Receiving no indication that his words were heard, he tilted his head away to better see the prince's face and found drooping eyelids blinking heavily. Elrohir gently pressed his cheek to the golden head and murmured, "Soon, my friend, we will be home, and you can rest properly."

"Not yet," Legolas countered in a faint murmur, shifting anxiously.

"Sh, it will not be long now, and we will have you tucked into a warm bed," Elrohir soothed. Thinking him cold, the twin fussed with the blankets bundled around his friend, tucking them as snuggly as he could manage with one hand.

"Not ready. Must wait for ada," Legolas mumbled. Tucking his head into the temporary safety of Elrohir's neck, he quieted, but his trembling did not cease.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

_All will be well, peredhil. Be at peace_.

Staring at the bright flowers of his garden, Elrond replayed the gentle assurance and tried to hold onto the fleeting serenity that had accompanied it. His mind soon gave way to worry once more, though, and Elrond turned his gaze to the path. It was yet as empty as it had been when last he looked, and a sound that might almost have been a growl, but for its softness, escaped his lips. Closing his eyes, Elrond breathed in long and deeply.

_Be at peace._

_I __will__ be, _Elrond commanded his spirit_. I must be! For he will have need of a serene heart to soothe his fear and ease the way._

Elrond inhaled another slow, calming breath, and then another, banishing all thought but that of the movement of air. Far in the distance, his ears caught the faint sound of elves singing in the trees. His mind joined itself to their merry melody, and the disquiet of Elrond's spirit gradually stilled. Then he felt the gentle touch of his son's anxious spirit.

_I am here. All will be made well,_ he soothed. Feeling Elrohir's spirit lighten, Elrond opened his eyes and peered out upon the path. It was still empty, but it would not remain so for much longer.

_They will arrive soon enough,_ his heart whispered, _and what must be, will follow as it may. There is no need to hurry it along. _

All the same, his feet moved toward the path, drifting along with the Elvish tune over the bridge and into the trees beyond. The song wavered as Elrond halted beneath the boughs - the lord of Imladris did not often venture across the river - but it soon started up again. A slight smile touched his lips as Elrond closed his eyes to better listen to the voices singing eagerly, each louder and more joyous, competing one with another until the song reached its crescendo.

He opened his eyes as the last note slowly faded, and there upon the path, creeping ever n earer, the long-awaited wanderers appeared. Elrond grinned with relief at the sight, but a tendril of fear slithered up his spine as he stepped forward to greet them.

Elrohir smiled as he caught sight of his father waiting upon the road. The expression dimmed, though, as Elrond's spirit abruptly chilled. Feeling a shift in tension, Legolas roused from the weary stupor seeking to claim him. His heavy eyelids, though, refused yet to open.

"You see, you worried for naught, my old friend, for the rain has not melted our merry band of hunters after all," Glorfindel teased as the party halted before the lord of Imladris, but Elrond's keen ears did not miss the troubled edge that lay beneath the light tone. Nor did the pensive shadow darkening the elf lord's gaze escape notice as his eyes met his lord's.

"Indeed, I see that it is so," Elrond responded in kind, but his tone was resigned and his eyes mournful as they peeked past Glorfindel to find Legolas tucked securely in Elrohir's arms.

A fresh shudder raced through Legolas at the sound of Elrond's voice. _Nay, Elros, Nay! I cannot cross yet! I am not ready. I must wait for Ada!_

He forced his eyes open as fear quickened his already labored breaths, threatening to stop his lungs altogether. His glance flitted to the lord of the Valley and then away_. It is Elrond…only Elrond.' _The comprehension did little to ease the worry niggling at his mind, though.

Circling around Glorfindel, Elrond scrutinized each wanderer as he passed, noting with a subtle frown the unhealthy pallor of the ranger's cheeks and an oddly pensive shadow behind Elladan's eyes. A shadowed darkened Elrohir's features, as well, but it was one of concern and suspicion, and not unexpected. Reaching Legolas's side, Elrond laid a gentle hand upon the wood-elf's knee and gave it a supportive squeeze. Legolas trembled at the touch, and the prince's downcast eyes did not rise to greet him. Seeking to soothe him, Elrond's hand rose toward the golden tendrils that had escaped their braids and fallen forward to veil the wood-elf's face. Legolas tensed further, and his quivering increased. Dropping his arm, Elrond peered instead into his son's penetrating eyes. Meeting them squarely, Elrond mustered a vague semblance of nonchalance and remarked, "I expect a warm fire and food will be most welcome."

"To be sure," Glorfindel declared with a forced smile. "Let us get our younglings thawed and fed and tucked into their beds."

Elrond smiled inattentively as he finally settled his hand against Legolas's thigh, needing the assurances that the wood-elf was really there, and not just part of another vision that would soon fade. He shook his head as the horses sauntered toward the bridge. _You cannot cross with him; the way is too narrow. You must let him go._

Elrond finally forced his arm away and dropped back as Elrohir's horse lifted a foreleg to step onto the bridge. His hand clenched tightly as the pair moved slowly away. _You see, he does not fade before your eyes. All will be well. We will find a way to make it so._

OOOOOOOOOOOO


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Gloom hung over the party as they made their weary way inside, despite Legolas's determined effort to lighten the mood of his friends.

"I am wide awake now and can manage well enough on my own, Elrohir," he insisted weakly, as the twin practically carried him toward a bedroom. "I do not need to be lugged about like a dwarf in a sack."

Elrohir smiled at the jest, but did not relent, which Elrond thought wise. Despite the wood-elf's resolve, Legolas's body quivered from the effort exerted, even though he leaned heavily upon Elrohir.

"Nay!" the prince stated more adamantly, as Elrohir shifted to lift him onto the bed. Disentangling himself, Legolas transferred his weight from Elrohir to the bedpost and, after a quick pause to catch his breath, declared, "I am not an elfling, and thus am quite able to put myself to bed. My thanks to you, my friend." He bowed regally, if somewhat shakily and with one arm securely wrapped around the bedpost. "Now, pray, go find a bed of your own, or better yet, find one for Estel and tuck _him _in."

The dismissal had taken nearly all the breath Legolas could muster, and he leaned heavily against the bedpost, but his expression remained defiant, convincing Elrohir to acquiesce. Throwing up his hands, the twin smiled h alf-heartedly and bowed with exaggerated subservience.

"As you wish, my lord," he playfully bade and turned toward the door with a grand flourish of his hand. There he found Elladan, standing still upon the threshold, and stopped mid-step. The elder twin appeared lost in some dark contemplation, and Elrohir's attempt at pretend joviality fell away as he watched the thoughts dance in his brother's eyes. Soon, though, he felt Elrond's and Aragorn's concerned gazes oscillating from one twin to the other and fixed a fresh smile upon his face. Clearing his throat, Elrohir managed to snare Elladan's attention and, with a roll of his eyes, said, "Come, brother. As our assistance is no longer required, what say we find ourselves a pair of hot baths to crawl into instead?"

Elladan grinned and nodded, but his eyes remained shadowed, and Elrond frowned as he watched his sons go. An awkward movement nearer at hand soon distracted him, though. Turning attention back to Legolas, he found that the prince had released the bedpost, shed his warm cocoon of blankets, and was making his way precariously toward the bath that Elrond belatedly registered was steaming in readiness for his weary guest. He rushed forward, but Aragorn was quicker. The ranger wrapped an arm around Legolas's back to steady him, earning a disgusted glare. Ignoring it, Aragorn guided his friend the remaining few feet and eased him down to rest upon a stone seat.

"Truthfully, my friend, I can manage on my own," Legolas complained, swatting at the ranger's hands as they reached for the hem of his tunic.

"Arms up," was all the response he received, and the prince reluctantly attempted to comply, but his arms were so heavy... Seeing the effort, Aragorn eased Legolas's out of his tunic one by one and then pulled it off over his head, while Elrond stripped him of his leggings.

Helping Aragorn ease Legolas into the bath, Elrond frowned at the angry wounds marring the wood-elf's chest. He swiftly ran his sharp gaze over the rest of the prince's battered form, noting a bruised, swollen shoulder and a poorly-healing, green-tinted bite wound at the base of his neck, amongst various other scrapes and bruises. It was Legolas's deathly pallor that struck him most keenly, though, and sent a shiver down his spine.

"Nay!" the subject of his scrutiny growled preemptively. After pausing to gather as much breath as he could muster, Legolas added, "I am in no mood to poked and prodded. I thank you for your gracious hospitality, but pray leave me be awhile."

The request was not as polite as he would have liked, but he had not the strength left for more careful words. Winded and exhausted, he slumped against the tub.

"Let us at leas…" Aragorn began, reluctant to leave his friend's side.

"I will manage," Legolas interjected, breathlessly.

"Come, Estel," Elrond bade, though he, too, abhorred the idea of leaving. But even more, he loathed the prince wasting so much breath resisting their presence. "It is plain to see that you are also unwell. Let us find your own bath and bed, and I will see to your ills."

Aragorn opened his mouth to argue, but at a glance of warning from Elrond, said instead, "I will come and see you again after awhile, then."

Legolas's eyes had long since closed, but he nodded sleepily. Had he the breath to spare, he would have sighed with relief as he heard the ranger's steps retreat from the bath chamber. Legolas considered opening his eyes to confirm that Elrond had also departed._ Nay! He would not deceive me; _he assured himself and slid deeper into the bath. Yet, even as the warmth of the water soothed the chill from his weary bones, a cold shadow crept into his thought, bringing with it the memory of a swirling hand of mist and a presence he knew now with certainty to be Elrond's.

_Nay! You will not claim me yet, _he hissed to both Elrond and Elros alike. Opening his eyes, Legolas pulled himself unsteadily from the bath. _I will seek Ada._

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Holding tightly to the rim of the tub Legolas wobbled out of the water and fell, more than stepped, in the direction of the stone seat upon which still sat his discarded clothes. A shaky hand retrieved his travel-stained tunic and leggings, but breathlessness forced him then to rest. Still he resisted his cumbersome limbs as they urged him to collapse down upon seat, leaning heavily against the wall, instead. _You will have to sit to put on your leggings; you can do it here_, his limbs whispered enticingly, but Legolas shook his head wearily. It had taken too much of what little he had left to rise out of the bath; if he sat upon the low stone seat, he would never get himself up again.

Lamenting that he'd have to leave the support of the wall to reach the bed, Legolas decided it was still the better option. The bed was high and would be easier to rise off of again once he'd dressed. Gathering the scant strength remaining in his failing body, he sucked in a weak, wavering breath and pushed himself away from the wall. His limbs were less compliant than his will, however, and he stumbled on his first step.

Strong arms saved him from a hard landing. Shifting his gaze upward, Legolas found those arms were attached to body of Glorfindel and managed a sheepish half-smile of gratitude. With little choice to do otherwise, Legolas allowed the elf lord to all but carry him to the bed.

Easing him down with gentle patience, Glorfindel then knelt before the bed in an effort to meet Legolas's downcast gaze. "I came to see if you were comfortably settled, and I see that you are not," he softly rebuked.

Legolas answered with a barely audible sigh, before shifting his focus to the clothes still clutched in his hand. He let the leggings slip from his grasp, so that they rested partway on his lap and partway on the bedcover, and attempted to force his lead-weighted arms to lift the tunic high enough to slip over his drooping head.

"I would think bed clothes to be of more service to you now, young one," Glorfindel observed, easily stealing the tunic from Legolas's hands. He smiled patiently as action earned him a frustrated glare from his young friend. "You think otherwise?" he queried.

The frustration in Legolas's eyes wavered into despair as he whispered breathlessly, "I cannot tarry much longer, but I promised to wait for him."

He fell silent then, struggling to find enough air to continue. As Legolas's head drooped further, Glorfindel shifted upward, prepared to catch the young elf should he fall forward off the bed.

"He will arrive here too late, I think," Legolas sighed, barely audibly. "So I must go to him."

"Legolas…" Glorfindel began softly, gently but the young elf cut him off.

"I must!" The prince insisted, with more force than his weakened body could handle. "I must seek ada!"

The last of his strength used up, Legolas collapsed forward into the elf lord's waiting hands. Gently shifting the young elf, Glorfindel laid back onto the bed. Legolas, in return, attempted vainly to get an elbow of support beneath him in the hope of rising.

"Legolas!" Glorfindel's commanding tone stilled him. "You cannot!" Capturing the younger elf's hands in his, he continued more gently. "There is no shame in desiring the comfort of home and kin, but you would not reach your destination. Your body must first heal, and it cannot do so without rest. You must rest!"

"I cannot," Legolas whispered insistently, breathless though it was. "I must wait…must wait for ada!" he finished, fighting eyelids determined to close.

"Then wait you shall," Glorfindel soothed, as he pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed and covered the prince, "but you must rest."

Legolas feebly shook his head, "Cannot…must wait."

Glorfindel frowned, frustrated at the young elf, but frustration fell into grief as dawning comprehension rose in his mind. _He fears he will not wake…_

Shifting forward, the elf lord gently cupped his friend's cheek. "Fear not, Legolas. You are not alone." Dropping his hand down, he took Legolas's hand firmly in his as he settled into chair beside the bed. "I am here, and I shall not let go before your ada arrives, I swear it," he vowed. "So rest, now, and fear not. I will hold you safely in my hands while you sleep."

As though testing the elf-lord's resolve, Legolas gripped his hand tightly. _With strength driven more from fear than ought else, _Glorfindel thought sorrowfully, but he was pleased when he seemed to past the test and Legolas allowed himself, finally, to drift into sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Legolas's breath quickened as a familiar mist swirled up around him, and he realized with despair that fallen back into dream.

_Nay! I will not go before ada arrives; I WILL NOT!_ He wailed to the hazy tendrils slithering toward his ankles. Hastily stepping away, his right foot slipped off the narrow bridge. Desperately, Legolas sought something with which to steady himself.

_There is naught! _He reminded himself, bleakly, _the mist shall have you, after all. _ But before he could resign him to falling into the abyss, he felt a firm grip envelope his left hand, steadying him. There was soothing calm in the touch that brought to mind the image of Glorfindel, and gradually, Legolas allowed himself to relax, trusting in the mighty elf-lord to hold him in place.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Elrond intended to dawdle as he treated Aragorn's ills. Alas, for the elf lord, the young man had been well tended by his brothers and needed very little additional care, making Aragorn a very poor distraction from his desire to return to Legolas.

Aragorn, for his part fidgeted impatiently, also wanting to return to his friend's side, and yet not wanting to smother Legolas who had, so plainly, needed some time to gather himself sans an audience.

The anxious energy of each fed into the other until; at last, they could stand it no longer. Eyes met in silent agreement, before Aragorn gathered the basin of warm water that had been placed by the bed, while Elrond gathered up his medicines and bandages, and the two strode purposefully out the door.

Elrond paused as they neared Legolas's room. The twins hovered just outside, blocking the doorway. As was to be expected, the pair wore similar looks of concern as they gazed into the room, but Elrond frowned as Elrohir's anxious eyes sidled occasionally toward his brother. Scrutinizing his elder son more closely, Elrond caught a distinct pensiveness in Elladan's expression, and a fresh knot of worry tied itself into his stomach.

"Adar…?" Aragorn prodded; eager to resume their errand. Elrond simply resumed walking.

The twins, having heard Aragorn, parted to allow the pair passage through the doorway, and then resumed hovering within it. Legolas wouldn't appreciate the smothering, they knew, but loathed to leave all the same; their friend's grasp on life seemed much too tenuous.

Glorfindel nodded in acknowledgment of Elrond's and Aragorn's arrival. Unexpectly, the elf lord did not yield the bed side, however, to the perturbation of the healer. Glorfindel's expression warned that the elf lord would not be moved, though, and so Elrond rounded the bed.

The ashen pallor of Legolas's skin deepened Aragorn's anxiety sufficiently that he quite willingly yielded his place beside the bed, moving to the foot of the bed, instead – near enough to assist if requested, yet far enough not to impede the healer as he worked.

Legolas stirred restlessly, murmuring incoherently, as Elrond gently folded down the blanked covering the prince. The healer's eyes flitted over the visibly infected scratches and bite wound. The incongruity of infection plaguing an elf made those injuries more disquieting than they were serious, though, thus Elrond paid them little heed for the moment. Instead he leaned in closely to listen to Legolas's labored breathing. Still firmly trapped within his dreams, the prince's mumbling grew steadily more agitated as the healer bent nearer, and he lashed out weakly with his free hand, startling Elrond upright.

"Peace, Legolas," Glorfindel soothed, scooting over to clasp the prince's shoulder. "Be at ease, young one. I am here with you."

As Legolas gradually stilled, Elrond comprehended his friend's reason for refusing to yield the bedside. Receiving a slight nod from Glorfindel, Elrond again bent over Legolas's chest, but as he drew nearer, the prince's restlessness returned.

"Nay!" he cried out, breathlessly. "You shall not claim me yet!"

"Peace, Legolas," Glorfindel resumed, "I am here; you are safe, young one.

Legolas's continued to stir, however, until the healer stood upright once more and stepped back from the bed. As Legolas quieted, Glorfindel's eyes met Elrond's mournful gaze, and he knew his friend had come to the same conclusion as he: The lord of Rivendell's presence distressed the prince.

Elrond turned to Aragorn as comprehension sank in that he could not treat Legolas himself without doing more harm than good. Gesturing for the young man to take his place, Elrond moved to the foot of the bed.

Puzzled by the turn of events, Aragorn opened his mouth to ask about what had just happened, but his foster-father raised a hand to silence him.

"Upon the bed-stand are the herbs you will need to mix into a poultice for the bite wound," Elrond instructed, solemnly. As Aragorn nodded, familiar with the ingredients before him, the healer added, "I'll steep the herb mixture in the kitchen and send Lossen up with it so you may bathe the scratches; I do not believe the infection has progressed there so far as to require a poultice."

Elrond turned then to address Elladan, "I heard enough to confirm that his lungs are congested. The tea you administered earlier to Estel …" The elder twin nodded his comprehension. "Do not wake him to drink, though; a vapor should do as well, perhaps better."

With that final instruction, Elrond ducked past the twins and strode purposefully down the hall before any questions could be asked.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

More disquieted than he wished to admit, even to himself, Elrond removed himself to his garden.

_Melian's words were wise_,Elrond lamented. _Would they ever be otherwise? _He sighed deeply. _My presence fills him with fear and despair because I cannot let him go,_ he chastised himself, and then scolded himself for the chastisement. "Nay! I will not lament my desire to hold him here!" He stated aloud, steeling his resolve. "He is of the first-born! I will not lose him to a doom that is not his own."

Fist balled defiantly, Elrond sucked in a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes. _Enough, brother! _He demanded. _There is an answer to this riddle; I am as certain of that as I am certain that you can provide it to me!_

Elrond resisted the urge to stomp his foot childishly when no vision came forth. "Elros!" He growled. "You WILL tell me how to fix this!"

Still, he was met with silence that sent him to his knees as desperation overwhelmed his heart. _Please, my brother…_

So deeply entrenched in his despair was he that several minutes passed before Elrond registered the sea-worn wood of the dock beneath his knees. Hope pushed back the anguish in his heart as realization dawned. Rising, he eagerly scanned the deck of the ship before him until his gaze landed up Elros.

His brother smiled down pensively and simply held out his hand, palm upturned, a stone-carven water lily resting upon it. Elrond frowned. Elros has shown him this stone previously, but he had not really taken note of it, for he already knew it to be the cause, somehow, of Legolas's current state.

"Perhaps…" Elrond mused aloud, reflecting upon the previous visions. The water lily had been place in elfling Legolas's hand. _Had he still held it when he died in Thranduil's arms? _

"Ai! I was too unstrung to notice…," he lamented, forcing his mind back to the vision of his children and Legolas playing in a garden that had never been.

"Nay! He did not!" He exclaimed, relief nearly overwhelming him as epiphany struck at last. "That is it, isn't it?" Elrond stated firmly, turning his gaze back to his brother. The stone is the answer!"

He grinned almost giddily as Elros nodded slightly in confirmation of his epiphany.

"I WILL find that stone," he resolved, as the vision faded, and he stood once again in his own garden. He was no longer alone, however. Turning back toward the house, Elrond found three set of eyes awaiting his explanation.

"Adar…" Elrohir began, being the first to find his voice, but his father interrupted.

"Come, Estel," the healer requested, moving to sit upon a bench and beckoning the young man to join him. "I must hear the tale of your journey with all haste! There is no more time to lose!"

"I do not know what I can tell that will be of use, Adar," Aragorn stated, as he strode over. He was too anxious to sit, but paced, instead, before the bench. "I have gone over and over it all in my mind since telling the tale to my brothers," he spared a moment to glace at the twins, who frowned back, wondering where there father was headed with all this. For it seemed obvious that Elrond had come into some insight whilst they were tending Legolas that had sparked hope within their father's eyes.

"Simply tell the tale," Elrond pressed, "and leave it to me to judge the usefulness of it."

Aragorn bit back an exasperated sigh and began, "I suppose the relevant tale begins with the wolf, as before that it had been a rather ordinary walk in the wood." At Elrond's nod of approval, he continued, "My trifling cold had distracted us – you know how Legolas's worries over such things."

The twins smiled fondly at the remark. Legolas was indeed wont to worry overly, having had less experience with the trivial illness that so oft plagued Men than they.

Aragorn smiled with his brothers, but quickly resumed his tale. "Thus the wolf was already upon us before either of us took notice of it," he admitted with chagrin, before pausing to reflect on the memory. Clearly, his father suspected something and was seeking some sort of confirmation. Aragorn did not want to confuse the matter by forgetting a detail that had not seemed important at that time.

The hesitation chaffed at Elrond, but he resisted the urge to press the young man. He needed details that might slip away if he rushed the telling.

"I spun around to reach for my sword, and Legolas must have tried to step back out of my way," Aragorn resumed, "for he was too near the edge when the wolf pounced, and they were already tumbling down the ravine before I could reach him."

The young man's pacing increased in speed as self-recrimination washed over him. A gently squeeze of his shoulder stilled him, however, and he looked up to find Elrohir beside him. A soft pat upon his other shoulder brought his gaze over to Elladan. Mustering a half-smile of appreciation for the support, Aragorn closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts, scouring his mind for some detail he'd forgotten in the telling of the tale to his brothers – and then he found it!

Elrond spirit lifted as the dawning of epiphany lit Aragorn's face. Unconsciously, he shifted forward to the edge of the seat, as he waited for the young man to speak his realization.

"A white light flashed up from where they fell," Aragorn announced at last. "It blinded me, forced me to delay while my vision adjusted." He turned to his father, hoping, praying that he found the detail that would somehow safe his friend. For his part, Elrond was already rising to his feet.

"You must show me!" His father declared. "It is there, I am sure of it!"

"It?" Elrohir queried, his bewilderment reflected in the faces of his brothers.

"The water lily," confirmed Elrond, missing the need for explanation in his excitement.

"Water lily," Elladan echoed, perplexed, but his father's mind was racing to far ahead to take notice.

"You must guide me, Estel," Elrond reiterated, pausing to face the young man as Aragorn hesitated.

"Allow me to guide you in his stead, Adar," Elrohir interjected, comprehending his brother's reluctance to leave Legolas, even with the hope of aiding his friend. "I know the spot well; leave my brothers to tend to Legolas should need arise whilst we're away."

Elrond nodded his approval, as Aragorn silently thanked his brother.

"We will leave at once," Elrond declared, but then, belatedly remembering his son had only just returned, added, "if you're up to it."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow. "You forget to which son you speak, father. A journey of such a short distance as this is hardly taxing," he replied with amusement, earning a half-hearted shove from Aragorn.

"Hey!" the young human objected, but Elrohir merely patted his shoulder and moved off, heading toward the stable.

OOOOOOOOOOOO


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Thranduil had grown so quiet by the time they reached Imloden, high above the northern gate into Rivendell that Baelorn didn't at first notice that the king had pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted. It was not until he turned to check on his father-in-law, as he had begun to do often since the king's muttering as ceased, that Baelorn discovered Thranduil meandering toward one of the gazebos the peered down into the valley. Reining in his horse, he watched bemusedly, as his father-in-law gazed down into the valley, his need for haste seeming to have died away.

_Pray, Iluvatar, let it be only his need for haste that has died_, Baelorn beseeched. He could not see Thranduil's expression, only the weary slump of the king's shoulders, but he could think of few reasons for Thranduil's sudden need to tarry. Baelorn jumped from his horse, alarmed as Thranduil wailed in grief and abruptly dropped to his knees, head bowed.

"Adar!" he exclaimed, rushing to his king's side.

Baelorn's shout went unheard, however. Thranduil's whole being was focused on the valley below and the enormous emptiness within his heart. How could it be that even here, looking down into the valley itself, he still felt nothing of Legolas? It could not be! Was he too late? Had Legolas not waited?

"Melian!" he cried to the breeze, "I beg you, please! I cannot enter that valley without hope! My ears are stopped not longer; give me what comfort you may offer."

Baelorn stepped back as a gentle gust of wind swirled up the gazebo steps and engulfed his father-in-law.

_Peace, son of Oropher, _it whispered in Thranduil's ears. _Do not be without hope. A path he walks upon which you cannot tread, but its way is not yet fixed. You may not follow but you can be his beacon, a star of hope to light his way._

Thranduil nodded, mournfully. He would do it. Whatever was to be, he would give his son that-the light of hope to ease his way.

Mind made up and heart steeled with purpose, Thranduil rose as abruptly as he'd fallen, turned, and remounted without a word. He had a journey to complete…

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Aragorn sighed dejectedly as he gazed down at the pale form of his friend. Each time he paused at the foot of the bed for a glance, Legolas seemed to him to have grown paler, weaker, and closer to death. The helplessness of it made him want to scream, but instead, Aragorn resumed pacing anxiously between the hearth and the foot of Legolas's bed. Though he had not wanted to leave his friend's side, it grated on his nerves to have naught to do but watch and wait…_and hope and pray_, he reminded himself.

"Be still, Aragorn!" Glorfindel upbraided softly, before turning his attention to Legolas, whose weak, restless stirring seemed to wax and wane in rhythm with the ranger's steps. "His disquiet is sufficient enough without adding yours to it," he added, once Legolas has been soothed back into peaceful stillness. "If you cannot calm yourself, remove yourself."

Flipping around defiantly, Aragorn leveled a glare at the elf-lord, but immediately relented and dropped his gaze to the floor. Glorfindel was right, he knew. Closing his eyes, Aragorn fisted his hand tightly and sucked in a deep breath, then released both the air and his grip slowly, willing his tension go with them. When it did not obey, he gasped in another deep breath and held it a moment, begging his nerves to settle, but to little effect. Finally, without a word, but with one final glance at the bed, Aragorn turned and strode purposefully onto the veranda.

Gazing up out into the gloaming, he sighed again, and then turned his antsy feet toward the terrace path. He would walk to stone seat, and mayhap on through the northern gate and up to Imloden. The exercise would sooth his nerves, at the least.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Elrond bit back in his excitement as party neared the tree that marked the spot where Legolas has fallen into the ravine. The storm waters were receding, allowing access once again to the riverside campsite. _But access does not ensure success in our quest, _he reminded himself. The flood could easily have washed away the stone he sought.

Elrohir dismounted first and peered down the steep slope, searching for a reasonable path down. The trail left behind by his brother and friend was still plainly visible, and he soon decided it was as good an option as any for passage.

Turning to tell his father such, he was startled to find Elrond peering not down into the river valley, but into the roots of the tree beside them. Following his gaze, Elrohir caught a glint of waning sunlight off stone.

Elrond grinned, a spark of hope igniting in his stomach as he rushed forward a step and bent beside tattered, lightning-scarred tree. "My thanks to you," he whispered softly to the tree, as the gnarled roots burrowed upward, bringing with them the very stone he sought.

The tree clutched it tightly, and for a moment Elrond feared he would not be able to free it. "Peace, my friend," he whispered soothingly, stroking the rough bark. "It has done its damage; let me see now if it may also amend it."

With a shudder of consent, the tree released its prize into Elrond's waiting hand.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Approaching the stone seat, Aragorn stopped abruptly, his brow furrowing. _Are those elven horses, I hear, _he wondered bemusedly. The elves of the valley walked this path; they did not ride upon it. Nor would it be Elrond; his hunting party had traveled west, not east, and they were expecting no guests, to his knowledge. Curious and glad of the distraction, Aragorn wondered aloud, "Who could it be?"

He did not have long to wait for his answer. Guiding his horse carefully along the narrow path, Thranduil appeared, followed closely by Baelorn. Aragorn's mouth fell open, speechless, as the Elvenking approached and dismounted before him.

"You are here," the ranger announced, finding his voice. "You have come! It is as Legolas said! But how… How are you here? How could you know?" he stammered on, unable to fully convince himself that the elf standing before him was truly there, and not some figment of his overwrought mind.

Thranduil, however, had not time for the ranger's befuddlement. "My son," he stated in simple command.

Mouth slamming shut in a firm, grim line, Aragorn nodded and, with a wave of his hand, beckoned the Elvenking to follow as he turned back toward the great house.

The path was quicker on foot, and thus Thranduil left his horse to Baelorn and hastened quickly after his son's friend, who was all but running now.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Thranduil paused in the doorway as he caught his first sight of Legolas. His son was ashen and so still that he for an instant he feared he was too late. Then he noticed Glorfindel, Legolas's hand firmly gripped in his.

The elf lord rose slightly to better whisper in Legolas's round ear, and Thranduil heard him say, "You have waited long enough, young one. Your ada is here."

Glorfindel squeezed Legolas's hand reassuringly one last time, and then stepped away with a nod to Thranduil.

The Elvenking closed his eyes, taking a moment to still his resolve. There was no time for despair now. Legolas needed him.

Sucking in a calming breath, Thranduil opened his eyes and stepped to the bed. He clasped Glorfindel's arm briefly as they passed, acknowledging his unspoken gratitude, before gently gripping the hand the elf lord had released and bending forward and lightly caressing his son's cheek.

"I am here, ion-nin," he whispered. "You are not alone."

Alarm coursed through Legolas as he felt the firm grip that had been holding him to his place on the bridge release. A moment later, however, it was replaced by another, more familiar grip.

"Ada!" he sighed, relaxing as the mist faded. Struggling against over-heavy eyelids, he managed at last to squint up at his father.

"Ada," Legolas whispered breathlessly, smiling weakly. "I have done as you bid…I have waited."

"Indeed, ion-nin," his father acknowledged, managing a reassuring smile in return as he pet his son's golden head.

"Cannot stay," Legolas gasped, letting his eyes fall shut.

"I know, Lassen," Thranduil soothed, softly pressing his forehead against his son's. "Carry with you my heart and my blessing."

"Don't wan' go…" Legolas exhaled, desperately seeking something tangible to cling to in the deepening fog engulfing his oxygen-deprived brain. His hand found his father's oak-leaf brooch and grasped it tightly. The pain of it cutting into his palm provided little distraction as he fought to draw another breath. The effort was in vain. His mortal body had naught left with which to continue the struggle_._

Comprehension brought panic, and Legolas tightened his grip on the brooch. This time the pain accomplished its purpose. Reason gained control of his mind, and Legolas let go. Panic would not hold him to this world. No matter his fear of what awaited him beyond the confines of the world, he could no longer resist its pull.

With his last remaining strength, Legolas forced his eyes open once more and fixed them on his father. The sight would never again be granted him. As the image faded to black, Legolas clung to the hope it had been etched into his memory deeply enough that he would not truly be alone as he tread this unknown path.__

As Legolas's eyes fluttered open, Thranduil gazed into them. Forcing back his anguish, he smiled lovingly.

"Be at peace, my son. I am here, and I will not leave you."

As he spoke, the little light left in his son's eyes faded slowly to naught. Gathering Legolas in his arms, Thranduil began to rock, singing through his streaming tears. Freeing one hand, he traced each line and curve of Legolas's face and stroked his hair, attempting to burn every nuance of his son into his senses.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Walking slowly along the bridge toward the waiting arms of Elros, Legolas paused for a glance over his shoulder, taking heart at the shimmering image of his father, standing steadfast, smiling reassuringly. Treading farther down the bridge, Legolas's courage grew as he found that his father's image did not fade away, as might a dream. But then his heart wavered, his steps faltering with it, as the comprehension sunk in that his father could NEVER traverse the bridge after him. With that understanding, came thoughts of all those he was leaving behind forever, and he stumbled, grief overwhelming his heart.

"Cast away your sorrow," he heard Elros bid. "Carry with you only the love and joy they have given you."

Feeling himself enveloped in a welcoming embrace, Legolas lifted his gaze to find Elros before him.

"Come," he bid, loosening his hold on Legolas and gesturing for him to follow. "Your time here is brief, and there is much for you to see and hear…and tell."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Opposite Thranduil, Aragorn dropped to his knees beside the bed and buried his head in hands. No! This could not be! This was now how it was suppose to end! Elrond was supposed to fix Legolas, Aragorn had been so certain he could. But his father had not yet returned, and Legolas was…was…

He could bear it no longer. Dropping his head to the mattress, Aragorn pulled his arms over his head and wept.

Outside, Baelorn's hesitated upon the porch as the elves of the valley began a song of mourning, but he quickly rallied himself and entered the house. Whatever his own grief might be, Thranduil's would be greater. He must be at the Elvenking's side to offer what little comfort he could.

Thranduil freed a hand for his son in law as he sidled up beside the Elvenking. It took Baelorn a moment to register it; he had expected his father in law to be too mired in grief to notice him at all. Taking the offered hand, he squeezed it supportively, earning a nod of acknowledgment from Thranduil, who then retrieved his hand in order to lift his son and carry him outside. The sun was setting, and Thranduil wished to enjoy the stars with his son one last time.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"No! No! No! We cannot be too late!" Elrond muttered, as the party approach near enough to hear the mournful song drifting across the valley. He pressed his horse to move faster toward the bridge. Reaching it, Elrond flung himself off his horse and raced across the bridge.

Behind him, Elrohir slowed to a stop, unsure now if he wanted to follow. He did not wish for his friend's lifeless shell to be the memory onto which he held. Elrohir much preferred to remember Legolas's bright eyes and merry laughter. Hanging his head, he allowed himself a minute to grieve. Then, with a sigh, he led the horses across the bridge. His father would need what little comfort his sons could offer.

Approaching the porch, Elrond spied first Glorfindel and Elladan, hovering off to one side. Their shared expression was enough to confirm what he knew in his heart to be true, though his head had tried to refuse it. Glorfindel noticed him and, with a sad smile, stepped forward to meet him.

Elladan _did not _seem to notice him, too caught up in the sight before him. Following his son's stare, Elrond's gaze fell to Thranduil, gazing up into the deepening night, seemingly searching for something, Legolas clutched tightly to him.

"But….but…we found it…I've got it…it cannot be too late," Elrond sputtered. He had never allowed himself to consider the possibility that he might fail. Glorfindel's sudden grip on his arm prevented him from sinking to his knees as comprehension settled over him.

In his heart Elrond knew with certainty that Ilúvatar had a different plan for Men. His own brother has chosen to walk that path, where ever it led. Perhaps their afterworld was indeed greater and more glorious than Valinor, but that mattered no more to him right now than it would to the elvenking. It was not Valinor. One day, Thranduil would go into the West, as would all his people and Legolas would not be there.

"No!" Elrond whispered under his breath. "It cannot be! It WILL NOT be!"

He may have been too late to save Legolas from death, but perhaps…just maybe, there was still a chance to save him from the doom of Men. His resolve returning, Elrond pulled free of Glorfindel and stumbled forward, dropping to his knees beside the grieving elvenking and his son.

Thranduil spared him a glance, but that was all as Elrond grasped Legolas's hand and wrapped the limp fingers around the stone-carved lily. Nothing happened. Elrond was not certain what he had expected, but he had firmly believed SOMETHING would happen. Still holding Legolas's hand in his, the healer sank down in defeat.

"Ah, there he is!" he heard Thranduil say, and looked up to where the elvenking was gazing. "Earendil – do you see, Lassen?" Thranduil continued. "A bright light of hope rising in the darkness…"

Blinking back tears, Elrond's gaze fell once more, but as it did, his eye caught the glint of starlight as Earendil reflected off the edges of the stone in Legolas's hand, and then…

A bright flash of white light exploded across the porch.

OOOOOOOOOOOO


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

OOOOOOOOOOOO

His head still buried beneath his arms, Aragorn stirred as the room flashed with bright, white light. He remembered that light! Hope stirring in his heart, his pushed himself up off the floor and stumbled out of the room.

There on the porch, he found everyone still temporarily blinded by the flash, their eyes screwed tightly shut. Dropping down next to Thranduil, Aragorn focused on Legolas. Still clutched tightly in his father's arms, his friend looked much the same as he had, except… Reaching forward with a tentative hand, Aragorn lightly traced his fingers along Legolas's delicately pointed ear. Tears again began to stream down Aragorn's cheeks, but this time they were accompanied by a grin.

Thranduil was the first to open his eyes and see it, and he smiled back at the ranger, before turning his gaze upon his son. He did not need to see the pointed tips of elven ears to know, however, that his son's true form had been restored. Thranduil had felt it in his heart even as the light flashed – the deep, aching emptiness was full again.

Elrond nearly collapsed with relief as he, too, opened his eyes and noticed something the other two had yet to see. Perhaps it was due to his healer's eye, or that he sat at an angle that did not allow him to be distracted by the young elf's ears… Whatever the reason, Elrond saw only the very subtle rise and fall of Legolas's chest.

"Legolas?" Elrond whispered, hopefully. Fearing it was wishfully thinking tricking his eyes into seeing what he wanted, he released the young elf's hand and shifted forward to rest his palm on Legolas's chest.

The action caught Thranduil's attention, and he fairly held his breath as he awaited a sign of life from his son - this caught Baelorn's notice, which, in turn brought awareness to the others watching, so that soon most eyes were focused on Legolas.

Something else had caught Glorfindel's eye, however. Having noticed a flicker of moment near Legolas's hand, the elf lord watched with wonder as the lily, now soft and supple as any living flower, fluttered in the breeze, and then was lifted completely, carried westward on a breeze that seemed to touch nothing else. As it wafted out of sight, Glorfindel, too, turned his attention toward his young friend.

Legolas's soft inhalation was barely enough for even elven eyes to see, but it was sufficient to spur those around him into a frenzy of activity. Swiftly lifting him, Thranduil carried him with gently haste back to the bed and carefully laid him down. The elvenking, though, could not bring himself to let go completely and held fast to his son's hand as Elrond appeared at the other side of the bed.

Aragorn stood fidgeting at the end of the bed, sandwiched between his brothers, who though stoic in appearance, who no less calm in their hearts as they watched. Baelorn came over to Thranduil's side, offering his silent support as he anxiously focused on Legolas. Glorfindel hovered just inside the room, no less interested, but aware that others had a greater need to be nearer to Legolas than he, for their own comfort as much as the prince's.

Steadying himself by first smoothing down the sheet that had been carried to and fro with Legolas, Elrond bent to listen to the young elf's breathing. He frowned a little at the congestion he still heard there, but then decided he should not have expected Legolas to be at once fully recovered. In truth, since placing the stone in the prince's hand, Elrond had not really stopped to consider long enough to have any expectation at all.

Shifting his gaze to Legolas's injuries, Elrond's frown melted away. There, he could already see signs of improvement. The prince's elven body was dealing swiftly with the mortal infection. Elrond closed his eyes, releasing a soft sigh of relief.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Elrond rose well before dawn. It had been only a few hours since he'd retired to bed, but he was somewhat astounded that he'd managed to sleep at all. His mind was still a whirlwind of thought and emotion. Unable to resettle, he wandered his great hall aimlessly and found himself, not wholly unexpectedly, outside Legolas's room.

Elrond smiled at the sight of Aragorn asleep in a chair just outside the door. The young man had thoughtfully left earlier to allow Thranduil and Baelorn time alone with Legolas. Elrond was not surprised, though, that Aragorn had not wandered far. In fact, he found it more unexpected that the twins weren't also loitering nearby.

Ruffling the young man's head affectionately as he passed, Elrond entered quietly, not wanting to intrude on the family, but _needing_ to check on the young elf. He found Thranduil soundly sleeping, still in the chair beside the bed, his head pillowed by his son's arm. Baelorn, though, was awake and watching him. He nodded a greeting as their eyes met, smiling slightly, but wariness remained in his eyes.

Elrond dismissed the sentiment. He could not fault Baelorn for it after all that had happened, most of which had yet to be explained. Elrond wondered grimly if proper explanation would even be possible. He was not wholly certain he understood much of it himself.

Saving that worry for later, Elrond turned his focus to Legolas, bending over listen to the young elf's breathing. He was pleased to hear improvement. Though he had yet to awaken, Legolas seemed to be recovery with almost astonishing speed.

_Nay,_ thought Elrond, _not astonishing – or at least no less so than the rest of it all. _Sufficiently reassured, Elrond nodded good night – _or was that good morning? –_ to Baelorn, and heading out the door to resume his restless wandering.

When his feet stopped again, he found himself in his garden. Elrond seated himself on a bench and smiled down upon his flowers. If his mind and body could not settle, they would not settle anywhere.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Standing unseen behind a pillar, Elladan watched his father, pensively.

"Your mind remains troubled," he heard a voice whisper from behind, but he did not to turn to face his twin. Instead, Elladan lowered his gaze to the ground beneath his feet.

"I suspect the minds of all those touched by these events remain somewhat troubled," he deflected.

"Indeed," agree Elrohir, placing a reassuring hand upon his brother's shoulder. "But yours, I think remains troubled by something other than the events."

Elladan sighed. He did not really desire to speak his thoughts to Elrohir, and yet none other might comprehend as well as his twin. Resigned, he turned to his brother, though he could not quite bring himself to meet Elrohir's concerned gaze.

"More and more, I find myself pondering the choice we must someday make," he admitted, his head bowed. Elrohir said nothing, but gave his brother's shoulder another gentle, encouraging squeeze. "And more and more," Elladan continued, "I have felt the pull of my kinship with Men." His eyes flicked up, wondering if he'd find approval or disapproval in the face of his twin.

Elrohir, however, gave him neither, keeping his expression wholly neutral. He himself had made his choice long ago, as he'd watched his mother depart for Valinor. It was not his place, though, to influence his brother. It would be Elladan who must endure the consequences of his choice; therefore it had to be Elladan's decision to make.

Focusing once again on his shoes, Elladan continued, hesitantly, "But now, seeing what it did to father to lose Legolas to the doom of Men, I…I…" His words fell away with a sigh, but then he sucked in a steadying breath and added, "I do not think that I could bear it…to know that I would wound him so."

Elrohir wanted to say something, to sooth his brother, but he had no words he deemed wise enough to trust. Instead, he came along side Elladan and wrapped an arm around his twin's shoulders.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

At last, the peace of his garden had begun to weave its spell, and Elrond found the tension beginning to release from his weary muscles. Breathing in a deep, fragrant breath, he opened his eyes to thank his flowers…and was at once taut as a bowstring.

Before him no longer lay his garden. Instead Lord Elrond found the hull of a great white ship. He slammed his eyes tightly shut, fearing what he'd see if he allowed himself to continue looking. In his heart, though, he knew he MUST look, and so, slowly, with great reluctance, he peered out from beneath his lashes.

There, upon the pier, Elros stood, grinning and waving merrily. Elrond couldn't help but smile back – he missed his brother – but it quickly faded as an increasingly familiar feeling washed over him. Elrond still had not decided if it were foreboding or dread or anticipation…or a warning. Sighing resignedly, he leveled his gaze to search for his children. Sure enough, to the right of Elros stood Estel, and on his right, Arwen stood.

Elrond wondered that his knees kept him upright, as foreboding grew to fear. He was leaving Middle Earth…leaving his children to suffer the bitterness of mortality.

"Nay! Nay! I will not depart without my children! I will not!" he shouted, though he knew it was in vain. The decision was not his to make for them. They would choose, each within his and hers own heart. Elrond could do naught but come to terms with each choice.

So caught up was he in foreshadowed grief, that it took several heartbeats to for him to comprehend that something was different. Something had changed since last he had this vision.

Looking around frantically, he sought the twins and discovered, to his relief and amazement that Elrohir stood at his side, waving merrily to the party below.

_But what of Elladan…_

And then his roving gaze found his son. Standing at the foot of the boarding ladder, Elrond could not tell if his son were boarding or disembarking. Opening his mouth to inquire, he stepped forward and… landed hard on his knees, the soft earth of his garden cushioning the blow.

Settling back on his heels, Elrond could restrain himself no longer. Burying his head in his hands, he wept freely.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Aragorn awoke slowly, with a long stretch and a wide yawn. It took him several minutes to orient himself, for it was not often that he fell asleep outside one of the many bedrooms. At recollection returned to him, he rose stiffly and crept back into Legolas's room.

He'd intended to sit beside the bed, as was his usual wont whenever Legolas or his brothers lay recovering from some catastrophe or another, but he halted just inside the doorway instead. Thranduil still slept in a chair beside the bed, and Aragorn was loath to disturb the elvenking. Thinking to sit instead by the wall, he turned and found Baelorn glowering at him. Aragorn's brow furrowed at the elf's uncharacteristic demeanor. Deciding perhaps he should give the family some space, the ranger meandered past the bed and out onto the porch.

The sun, though raised, had not climbed far into the sky yet, and Aragorn found the soft morning light soothing. Stretching again, he sucked in a deep, refreshing breath and decided a stroll would go a long way in restoring his spirits.

Before long, he found himself in the garden. Thinking to sit for awhile amongst the cheery blossoms, Aragorn made his toward his favorite stone bench. His peacefully mood diminished, though, as he arrived, for there, lying before the bench was Elrond.

Aragorn rushed to his foster-father's side, thinking him perhaps ill or injured in some way. After he had knelt down and gently swept the hair from the elf-lord's face, the knot in Aragorn's stomach loosened. Elrond seemed, by all appearances, only sleeping.

It was not a usual place of repose for the lord of Rivendell, but the ranger decided it was not so odd, considering the events of the past few days. He had, after all, found himself drawn to the cheery peace of the garden; it was not strange that the Elrond might have as well. The elf-lord often came here when in need of restoration. Likely as not, Aragorn considered, the blooms has then simply soothed the emotionally spent healer into much needed sleep.

Deciding it was better to leave Elrond undisturbed. Aragorn pondered stretching out beside his foster-father. The stroll had done much to ease his mind, and he felt quite relaxed enough to rest again. But then, his stomach growled. It had awoken with the exercise and saw no reason to return to sleep.

"Rest well, ada," Aragorn whispered and turned his feet toward the kitchen.

OOOOOOOOOOOO


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

OOOOOOOOOOOO

The sun had moved well into the western sky when Elrond awoke.

"Good day," he heard Glorfindel bid him merrily as he sat up. "I had just decided that you were going to sleep the whole day away."

Elrond smiled at his friend, somewhat chagrined at having unintentionally fallen asleep.

"Ah well, it was a much needed rest, I am certain," Glorfindel added, returning a grin, but then his expression grew serious. "You are well recovered?"

Elrond puzzled slightly at that, for what had he to be well recovered from? It was Legolas who had suffered…

Reading the expression, Glorfindel smiled patiently and remarked, "You are as aware as I, my friend, that injuries to the spirit are no less taxing than those to the body. You have suffered much these past days…"

Elrond waved off his concerned. "I am well, my friend, truly," he asserted, with an easy smile. "Legolas is restored, and with him, my spirit."

Glorfindel nodded, though Elrond thought his friend seemed not wholly convinced. The elf-lord let the matter drop, however, much to the healer's relief.

"Speaking of which, I should check our young friend," he murmured, turning to enter the great house. Glorfindel simply watched him. He, as well as the twin, and no doubt Aragorn, had checked on Legolas several times throughout the day, but there was no value in informing Elrond of this; he would have gone to Legolas's room, all the same.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Upon entering the room, Elrond was pleased to discover that a well-furnished tray of food and drink had been brought to Thranduil. He was further gladdened to see the Elvenking eating his fill of it.

Thranduil nodded his greeting as Elrond approach the bed and moved to set the tray aside, but Elrond stopped him. "Please, my friend, continue. You have endured much and have great need of replenishment."

With a smile, the Elvenking nodded and resumed nibbling. Elrond noted that his eyes, though remained fixed on the healer, keenly watching his every move as he bent over Legolas.

"I hope Baelorn has found a bed," Elrond remarked, hoping to ease the tension.

Thranduil shook his head, smiling wryly. "Nay! I could not make him leave my side so long as that; even were I to command it, I think." He chuckled lightly, thinking of his son-in-law's over-protectiveness. "I did manage, though, to convince him to stretch his legs long enough to refresh himself. He shan't be gone long, I have no doubt."

Elrond nodded.

"Legolas is much improved," he assured, as Thranduil's expression grew serious once more. The Elvenking smiled, visibly relieved. "The wounds received from the wolf are healing well," Elrond continued. "The swelling is much reduced..." He paused long enough to mix together a paste with the healing herbs that remained on the bedside table. Noting Thranduil's close scrutiny as he moved to apply the medicine, Elrond explained, "This is only to prevent the tender new flesh from pulling uncomfortably."

Thranduil nodded again, relaxing a little – a very little.

Continuing his exam, Elrond listened to the young elf's breathing. He resisted a frown at what he heard, fearing the Elvenking would perceive the expression as more dire than warranted. More congestion remained than the healer had hoped to hear, considering the speed with which the injuries were healing, but it was greatly lessened from it had been.

"There is still some congestion in his lungs," Elrond finally said, deciding bluntness was the best option. Thranduil was far too astute to attempt to dissemble. Before the Elvenking could grow too anxious, however, Elrond added, "It has improved much, though, since I last listened, and I will send up herbal steam that will help ease it further."

He smiled reassuringly, before excusing himself and heading to the kitchen.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

It was Aragorn who returned with the steaming basin of herbs. Thranduil quirked a brow as the young ranger's head popped through the door and craned around the room before entering. Quickly ascertaining the reason for the hesitation, he stifled a chuckle.

"Baelorn has not yet returned from refreshing himself," Thranduil announced, shaking his head amusedly as Aragorn visibly sighed with relief and stepped inside to place the basin beside the bed.

The ranger hovered beside the bed, then, seemingly wanting to stay awhile, and yet skittishly watching the doors, ready to bolt at first sight of Baelorn. Thranduil sighed, the humor of the situation dimming.

"It is not you, Estel, with whom he is angry," the Elvenking consoled. "It is the situation… His family has suffered harm, and there is no enemy to fight by which to avenge the injury. Thus, he sits and simmers and waits to be needed."

Aragon nodded, comprehending the frustration of helplessness, but he remained not wholly convinced Baelorn's ire was not personal.

Seeing that his son's friend remained uncertain, Thranduil continued, "No blames rests upon for what has happened, Estel. The forces that conspired here are far greater and more powerful than any of us, Man or Eldar. There is naught you could have done beyond what it is that you did do – being there at my son's side. For that you have my gratitude." He finished with a slight bow of thanks, before adding, "And, in time, you will have Baelorn's as well." He winked then, before stating almost under his breath, "perhaps a good deal of time."

Aragorn sighed, and it occurred to Thranduil that the ranger perceived Baelorn's mood to be directed at him because, in his heart, despite the Elvenking's word, he did indeed blame himself, at least somewhat, for what had happened to Legolas.

"Is there fault that lies with you?" he queried bluntly, deciding it was the best approach for getting the ranger to speak his mind. Thranduil began to wonder if Aragorn _would_ respond, as the ranger's gaze fell to his floor.

But then, hesitantly, Aragorn spoke. "Whatever forces were at play here," he began slowly. "Legolas would not have become entangled in it all were it not for me. I dragged him out there…," he lamented, flicking his eyes up to meet the Elvenking's gaze and then dropping them back down. "In fact, he would not have been in the valley at all were it not for me."

"Estel," Thranduil said gently, hoping to get his son's friend to meet his gaze. He smiled patiently when Aragorn finally lifted his eyes. "Let go guilt to which you cling. Legolas is here to visit you, true enough, but you cannot know with certainty that he would not have been here otherwise - for little happens in this life that was a part of the great song from the beginning. And had he not been here, had he not gone out with you into the wilds, it is just as likely that this fate would simply have found him elsewhere – mayhap at home…but it is equally possible, he would not have been at home – for he does not sit always idle within my halls when he is not here, as you well know – and he would have had to endure this trial alone. So, take heart, young ranger. Whatever power set this in motion intended him to be here, and thus he would have been, even had you not played the part that was planned for you."

Aragorn nodded, though in his eyes, the Elvenking could still see a shadow of guilt. _Let him hold onto it if he must, _Thranduil admonished himself, resisting any attempt to further assuage his son's friend. _He no more has an enemy to avenge his helplessness on than does Baelorn. They both simply need time._

As if on cue, Baelorn entered. Aragorn visibly winced as the elf glowered at him, but Baelorn soon relented. Though too chagrined to admit it, he had listened from the hallway to all that was said and could find no good counter to Thranduil's argument.

"My king is wise as always. You bear no blame in what has happened," he acknowledged, somewhat begrudgingly. "Stay. I am certain it would please Legolas to have you wait with us."

Aragorn smiled genuinely at the proffered olive branch and nodded, "I will stay awhile. Thank you."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Legolas slept all through the rest of that day and night and then the next day, as well. Elrond, the twins, and Aragorn checked on him regularly, assuring Thranduil and Baelorn, who never left his side long, that he was indeed improving with every hour. Most importantly, as Elrond, observed, the congestion in his lungs had diminished as much as could be expected until the young elf was conscious and able to cough out the last remnants of it.

As the next day faded into the gloaming, Legolas seemed finally ready to do just that, stirring restlessly as the itch in his lungs began to rouse him. His face contorted into a grimace as the first rumbling coughs pushed their way up, sending Baelorn racing out the door in search of Elrond.

When the healer appeared, fairly shoved into the room by Baelorn, he found Legolas in his father's arms, Thranduil keeping him upright as the young elf coughed and gagged and gasped for air. Forewarned, Elrond had brought with him an empty basin. Rushing forward and sitting beside father and son, he held the basin beneath Legolas's chin. With little else that could be done, he muttered soothingly to both Thranduil and Legolas, encouraging the latter to get it all out, and reminding the former than the coughing was a necessary step in his son's recovery.

Thranduil glowered dubiously, but soon the spell eased, and as Elrond had promised, Legolas's breathing became easier. Worn out, the young elf flopped limply back against his father.

"Welcome back, young one," Elrond greeting, offering Thranduil a cool cloth with which to wipe his son's face. Pushing open reluctant eyes, Legolas's peered at him wearily. Elrond smiled, but it quickly dropped into a bemused frown as the young elf silently turned into his father, and quivering slightly, clung to him as though he feared Elrond might snatch him from Thranduil's arms.

Equally puzzled by his son's reaction, Thranduil murmured soothingly, petting the golden head reassuringly. Behind him, Baelorn bristled, and thus, accordingly, Elrond decided to take his leave. After all, Legolas had endured much and slept long. Weak and no doubt disoriented, it was not so unreasonable that he would seek the comfort of his father's arms.

"I will send up some tea to ease his coughing," Elrond stated, as he headed for the door.

Once Elrond was out of sight, Legolas loosened his grip on his father and allowed himself to be sat up against the pillows. Despite have only just awoken, his eyelids were already growing heavy. _I seem to have coughed out all my strength, _he mused to himself as he started to drift back into sleep.

Thranduil considered prodded his son bake to wakefulness, but he found it an encouraging sign of returning health when Legolas's eyes drifted only half-way closed before glazing with sleep and decided to leave him be.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Legolas continued to cough intermittently during the night, but suffered no further serious spells and did not wake fully again until morning. Tensing, he reached for his father as the haze of sleep blew away, and sure enough, found the Elvenking still beside the bed, wandering the paths of elven dreams. Behind him, Baelorn sat, also dozing. Legolas relaxed at the sight and, with a jaw-cracking yawn, pondering whether to rise and return to sleep himself.

Before he could decide, Legolas caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to find a grinning Aragorn staring unabashedly at him.

"It's about time, mellon-nin," the ranger scolded playfully. Legolas grinned at him.

"I am glad to see you, too, my friend," he replied. "You are well?" Last he'd seen of Aragorn, the ranger had been under-the-weather.

Aragorn's brow rose in bewilderment. Events had pushed the memory of his own cough from his recollection; Legolas always took more noticed of trifling illness than the Man did at the best of times. In the end, Aragorn simply shrugged and replied with a chuckle, "I am. How are you?"

As if in answer to the question, Legolas coughed lightly, prodding Aragorn to turn and fetch a cup of tea from the bedside table. By the smell of it, the elf recognized it as the same tea Elladan had given Aragorn after finding them by the river. He gladly accepted it, remembering how much improved the ranger's cough was after drinking.

The warm liquid was near bliss as it slid down his abused throat, and Legolas grinned appreciatively. "Thank you, my friend."

Aragorn returned a half-smile, taking the emptied cup back again before replying. "Do not thank me. It was ada who sent me up with it."

Legolas's expression darkened at the mention of the healer. Noticing, Aragorn frowned. "Legolas?"

His friend waved off the concern however, forcing the storm from his eyes and plastering a smile on his face. "You will thank him for me?"

Aragorn pursed his lip at the deflection, but said nothing about. "You may thank him yourself; I'll fetch him…," he said instead.

"No!" Legolas exclaimed, startling his family awake. He quickly composed himself as Thranduil and Baelorn looked to him in alarm. "No, I thank you for the offer, but there is no need to disturb him needlessly."

Aragorn's frown returned. Clearly, there was something unspoken lying between his foster-father and his friend, but he was not sure whom he should confront first – Legolas or Elrond. Either way, he doubted he'd be able to speak of it with Legolas with Baelorn glowering in the background, so Aragorn let the matter drop for the moment.

Instead, the ranger launch into a retelling of all the gossip Legolas has missed while he slept, managing to successfully amuse and lift the spirits of all three elves as he did so.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

It was late in the afternoon when Legolas next awoke. He had fallen asleep amidst Aragorn's prattle and was somewhat disappointed to find the ranger no longer there. Disappointment quickly gave way to apprehension however; as he registered that his family was no longer there, either.

"Ada finally convinced them to join him for a proper on the veranda instead of nibbling at your bedside," he heard Elladan announce and swept the room in search of him. Legolas found the twin sitting near the hearth, gazing pensively at him. "They will not stay away long, I have no doubt," Elladan continued reassuringly.

Legolas nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't speak. Instead, he studied Elladan. There was something on the twin's mind, he was certain of it – something Elladan uncomfortable speaking of. Legolas scoured his recollection, attempting to ascertain what it might be.

"Legolas?" Elladan mumbled, hesitantly, and a knot began to tighten in the prince's stomach and a vague notion what was about to be asked began to form in his still-foggy mind. "I.."

But Legolas cut him off before he could continue. "It is you who must endure the consequences of your choice, Elladan, whichever path you choose. I will tell you nothing of my experience that might influence you one direction or the other."

Elladan's brow furrowed, troubled that Legolas has read his mind so easily as much as by his friend's statement. He nodded, though, realizing the wisdom of the words with a long sigh. It would be his doom to suffer, and thus it was his choice to make and his alone.

"I will say…" Legolas began, and Elladan looked up hopefully, "that I do not believe my words would help, even if I were willing to speak of what has happened. For you…you are peredhil, my friend. Thus, for you, there has always been a choice to be made someday. For me there is and has never been a choice - neither in my final doom, or…or in what I just experienced. Walking a path chosen of free will…that must by its nature be different to suffering a doom pre-determined."

Elladan shrugged noncommittally. Again, he could comprehend the astuteness of his friend's words, but that were hardly soothing to his disquieted mind.

"I do not believe there is a wrong choice, Elladan," Legolas finally said, seeing that he had so far brought little comfort to his friend. "Whichever path you walk, there will be joy and there will be sorrow. Trust your heart to know which offers the _greater_ joy and _lesser_ sorrow."

Elladan nodded, turning his pensive gaze to the low flames warming the hearth rather than meet Legolas's eyes. The prince sighed, unwilling to say more, though it might ease his friend's heart. 

He was soon distracted, however, by Aragorn's head popping through the door.

"They are supping with your father, apparently," Legolas informed, smiling in amusement and the ranger perused the area Thranduil and Baelorn had been occupying. Aragorn grinned at the news.

"Elladan, do you think I could…" he started to ask, but the twin had already guessed what was coming. With a flourish of the arm and a slight bow, he excused himself to allow the friends some time alone. He could do with some time alone, himself.

"You sound better," Aragorn announced, settling down in the chair Thranduil has previously occupied. Legolas smiled.

"I feel better," he confirmed. "I am over-weary, but the coughing has relented."

Aragorn nodded approvingly, but soon his expression grew more serious, and in a tone very like the one Elladan has used, said, "Legolas?"

"Ai!" Legolas interjected, throwing his hands up in exasperation before Aragorn could continue. "Not you, too, Estel!"

"What?" Aragorn asked innocently.

"I have not the strength for so much deep discussion, Estel," Legolas declared. "By the Valar, if you value our friendship, do not ask whatever is on your tongue."

Aragorn raised a brow. "I only wanted to speak with you regarding my father…"

A groan from the bed stopped him from saying more, though his other brow raised to match the first as Legolas pulled one of the many pillows out from beneath him and threw if over his face, before covering both with his arms.

Deciding that, _perhaps, _it was not, after all, a good time to confront his friend, Aragorn wisely said no more. Instead, he settled back in the chair to await Thranduil's return. He suspected Legolas might wish to be without company awhile, but Aragorn doubted Legolas's family would be equally pleased to return and find him left alone.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

As so it was that when Thranduil and Baelorn arrived not long after, accompanied by Elrond, that Aragorn watched his father's approach with apprehension. Rising, he made way for Thranduil, but moved only as far as the foot of the bed. Should this encounter not go well, Aragorn wanted to be near enough to lend support – to Legolas, to Elrond, or to both, should the need arise. To his great relief, however, his readiness was unwarranted.

"Legolas," Elrond greeted, masking wariness with cheeriness. He smiled, more pleased than he thought he really should be when the prince lowered the pillow over his face and bowed his head slightly.

"Lord Elrond," Legolas returned.

He did not meet the healer's eyes, but as Legolas also did no shy away when he bent to listen to his breathing, Elrond's unease decreased. He noted abstractly the some of the tension in Thranduil's shoulders eased, as well. Baelorn, however, tense and alert, continued to glower over the Elvenking's shoulder.

"You are healing swiftly, young one," Elrond pronounced after a quick examination.

Those watching breathed sighs of relief, until Legolas sat up straighter and, still without meeting the elf lord's gaze, asked, "I can travel, then?"

The question caught Elrond so off-guard that he was left speechless as he turned his gaze to Thranduil. The Elvenking simply pressed his lips into a tight line, his thoughts unreadable. Baelorn, though, grinned broadly.

"I…uh…well, yes, I suppose, if you take the journey slowly, you are well enough to travel," Elrond finally stammered. He might have said no, but Legolas's eagerness to escape him was so plain that he could not bring himself to do it. Thus, Elrond pasted on patient smile, hiding his desire to weep as he wondered if the events of the past days had forever ruined his association with the young elf.

"May we then, ada?" Legolas implored, fixing his eyes on his father.

Thranduil seemed not wholly convinced, and for a moment Legolas feared his father would deny him. The Elvenking finally nodded his consent however, having come too close to losing his son forever to easily refuse Legolas anything for the time being.

"We will leave no sooner than the morning, and then we stop if I decide you are too weary, whether you agree with the assessment or not," Thranduil declared, making it clear that his terms were non-negotiable. Legolas nodded compliantly.

"I will see to preparations," Baelorn offered, over-eagerly, and, with a nod from the Elvenking, left to do just that.

"Legolas…" Aragorn finally chimed in, aghast, but his friend would not meet his eyes.

"Come, Estel," Elrond sighed, prodding the young man lightly when he did not initially respond. "Let us assist Baelorn…"

"Nay," Thranduil interrupted, clasping the young man on the shoulder. "You and I can assist Baelorn; let Legolas and Estel enjoy some time together."

Aragorn gave the Elvenking's forearm an appreciative squeeze. He then hovered impatiently as Thranduil and Elrond took their leave. He didn't really know what to say as he sat down beside the bed, so instead he simply stared at Legolas, waiting for his friend to speak.

"Estel..." Legolas whispered, his gaze still fixed on the sheets.

"Please, mellon-nin," Aragorn interrupted. "Look at me, at least."

Legolas complied, though hesitantly.

"That's better," Aragorn remarked, trying to smile. "I am sorry…about earlier. I will not speak of it again," he vowed. "Truly, whatever lies between ada and yourself, I will leave it well enough alone…I swear."

Legolas managed a half-smile, shaking his head. "Nay, my friend, you have nothing to apologize for. Nor do I harbor any ill will toward Lord Elrond," he declared. "Truly!" Legolas added when Aragorn raised a dubious brow. "I just…I just…"

Legolas paused, unable to find words to expression the storm of emotions still swirling in his heart.

"You just need peace," Aragorn finished. _Of course he cannot find peace here? _The ranger lamented to himself. _We all so unsettled by what happened, Ada especially… How COULD he find peace here?_

Legolas signed resignedly, fearing his friend was reading too much into his desire to be home, but he nodded all the same. "You will see, my friend, I will be myself again all the sooner for being home," he consoled. "And then, before you know it, I will be back, wreaking havoc with you in your fair valley."

Aragorn smiled at this, reassured that, at least, his friend did not intend to run away forever from Rivendell.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Soon after breakfast the following morning, the residents of the Last Homely House gathered somewhat mournfully in the courtyard as the wood-elves mounted up to depart. Though his father's realm was occupied too well for Legolas to visit regularly and at length, they had all come to enjoy his presence when graced with it. Now, much as Aragorn had initially feared, each in his or her heart feared that were seeing the last of the young elf prince.

Glorfindel, however, feared not. Sidling up to a very glum looking Elrond, he wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders and gave him a supportive squeeze. "He will back, my friend. You will see," he assured. "Legolas is too loyal a friend to stay away long."

Elrond pondered this a moment and then smiled. Wise as always, Glorfindel was right in his assessment. Legolas was fiercely loyal to those he called friend; he would not abandon Aragorn, whatever he now felt toward Elrond.

Reassured and hopeful that time and patience would mend their association; Elrond stepped forward to bid his farewell to the party. So unexpected was it when Legolas rode forward to meet him, after avoiding him for so long, that an anxious knot formed in the Lord of Rivendell's stomach as the prince bent down to speak to him.

"Do not lament his choice," Legolas whispered to him. "He is happy, and he is content…and he misses you, too."

Elrond's eyes welled with tears. Reaching up, he carefully brought Legolas's forehead down enough to press it gently to his and whispered, "Thank you."

Legolas nodded against Elrond's forehead, then rose abruptly, and with a bow to the courtyard, turned his horse eastward toward home.

The End.


End file.
